Tourniquet
by Tilea
Summary: AU: Sometimes to save a life one must do more than stop the bleeding. Sometimes, keeping someone alive takes selfsacrifice in hopes that the effort won't be in vain and the feelings that inspried that sacrifice will be returned. Miles x Franziska
1. Chapter 1

Tourniquet

**Disclaimer: **Phoenix Wright and its characters are property of Capcom, and not mine, sadly.

Chapter 1

The heavy wind sends the single piece of paper remaining on my desk to the floor. It's like ice, but I should be used to it by now. Ever since the pen touched that paper I've doubted myself, but I can't let it stop me. I know what I'm doing; it's the only thing I'm sure about now. Of course, the prospect is frightening; no one ever knows what to expect, and the unknown can be a frightening thing. Still, it can't be any worse than this.

I lean forward and peer down at the concrete below, the chilling wind blowing my bangs back from my eyes. No one is there; it's too late in the night for anyone to still be loitering down in the parking lot. Good, it's better that way. My only witnesses will be the street lamps, and they will be silent by the time the morning light can reveal me again. Ah, the sweet sent of acid rain. How I'll miss it beating against my bloodstained face! Such a pleasant sting, a distraction from thought and remorse. The rain has neither of these feelings; what I wouldn't give to be the same!

I've made certain there is no one to hear me scream; they've all left me behind. I am alone in this building and in this world. So much was riding on that verdict, and I was betrayed. I have sacrificed myself for the life of another. I wish them both well, though the sting he left is even worse than that of the freezing precipitation. It is unusually cold tonight. Hah, how fitting.

Enough delays. If I stay too much longer, I'll lose my will. Twelve stories: that's all that stands between me and my salvation. All I have to do is lean just a little further; it's so simple, yet so difficult. Why can't I do it? I won't even feel the impact; I'll be gone before I even reach the ground. Just a fraction of a second I'll have to feel myself falling, then it will all be over. So what am I waiting for? I'm leaving nothing behind me, so nothing should be pulling me back.

No, I need to do it now! I'm hearing things! There…there's a knocking at my office door. No, it's all just my imagination. No one is here; I made sure of it. I take in a deep breath and hold it. It has to be now before…

It comes again, and this time it's louder. No, it's not real! Yet… I want so badly to answer the door. Is this really happening? Is the prospect of someone being there when I open the door really keeping me from doing this? Am I really so afraid of death that my mind is fabricating a presence to stop me.

No! I can't do it! I whip around and make a dash for the door, throw it open, and take off down the lightless hallway. I faintly hear something from behind me, a sharp, high-pitched scream. Still, I'm not stopping! No one can know about this!

The elevator is at the end of the hall. If I just keep running I can reach it. However, just as I know I must be getting close, my vision suddenly goes red. A piercing snap, a sharp, searing pain, another scream, this time from my own lips. I turn around and grab the throat of my attacker in self-defense. Two hands—smaller than my own—grasp my wrist tightly in a struggle to push it away as I feel something hard impact with my stomach. I double over in pain as the taste of copper erupts from my own throat and flows onto my tongue. My hand is pushed away, and there is another snap.

I can't breathe! Blinding pain like nothing I've experienced in many years drives me to my knees. Both my throat and the back of my neck are bleeding now as I gasp for air, but all I breathe in is blood. I begin to gag and soon crumple to the floor, desperately trying to take in the oxygen my lungs burn for.

Someone is screaming, but I can't hear them. I'm panicking; I feel like my body is going into shock as my thoughts and senses begin to leave me. I'm dying… I just know it… I couldn't even have the dignity of taking my own life. This is what I get for being such a coward and hesitating.

Suddenly, all is quiet. I hear no screaming; only the sound of my own ragged breath, although the blood still causes me to make a gargling noise each time I inhale. I feel the urge to cough, but all I can do is choke and gag until at last it all comes up at once. I roll onto my stomach and vomit blood onto the carpet before me. An involuntary moan escapes me as I return to lying on my side, a horrible sick feeling overcoming me.

It is then that I hear my attacker speak my name, a small voice full of confusion and terror.

"Miles?"

I'd know that voice anywhere and I could only wish it was my imagination, but nothing could be more real than this pain. A small amount of light invades my vision, the beam of a pocket flashlight I assume. Still, I can't look up; I can't look her in the eye while lying here pathetic and broken as I am.

"Oh my God… M-Miles… W-what were you…?"

I can tell she's panicking. She's having trouble speaking and her German accent isn't normally so thick. I have to pull myself up somehow or else she'll call for help. I didn't want anyone to know about this. I thought I was alone. Why is she here?

I hear movement and turn to see that she is preparing to head back down the hall. She's going for the phone; I know it. I reach out and grab her left heel, causing her to trip and fall to the floor as well.

"What the hell?!" She reaches back and takes hold of my wrist, having no trouble removing my hand. "I'm going to-"

"I know what you're going to do," I mutter as more blood trickles from my lips. "Don't."

She quickly gets back to her feet, and I can feel her cold eyes boring into me, but I don't look at her. "But, you're-"

"I'm fine," I lie as I start to push myself up. I need to get this blood cleaned up somehow. I can't leave any traces of this. I'm shaking badly, but still I have to stand up, no matter how much it hurts.

I finally manage to get to my feet and use the wall for support, but as soon as I begin to move back toward my office, I feel a hand grasp my upper arm. "Let go!" I snap at her, wrenching my arm away.

"Miles!"

"I don't need help!" As I growl these four words, I finally turn to look at her, though I didn't mean to. The look on her dimly-lit face startles me, and I can't help but gaze for a moment longer than I intended to. Fear is not something I am accustomed to seeing in her eyes, but it is so apparent at this precise moment. With a sigh, I turn away and proceed to make my way along the corridor. There has to be something in my office I can use to get the blood out, even if I have to bleach the carpet. As long as there is no more blood, I'll be satisfied.

I reach the open door of my office after what seems like an eternity. I want nothing more than to simply collapse where I stand, but I cannot. As soon as I enter the room, the icy wind blowing in from my wide-open window hits my face once more, its refreshing sting reminding me of why I am here in the first place. No, it can't be tonight. I must be alone or else I'll just cause more problems.

I take a few more shaky steps before having to stop and support myself on the small chess table near the door, causing all the pieces to fall to the floor. I don't know if I can go any farther, but I must.

"You need to lie down."

"Don't tell me what I need to do," I hiss through clenched teeth as I feel her come up behind me. I wish she wasn't so persistent; since when is she so concerned?

There is another moment of silence during which I attempt to gather my strength, but then she moves again. That damned piece of paper has caught her attention, and she moves past me to retrieve it. However, my hand instinctively extends forth, clutching the back of her shirt and wrenching her backward sharply. She steps back quickly and drives her elbow into my forearm, forcing me to release her. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" she screams at me, turning on me with her fists clenched.

"Get out," is my reply, my head still lowered as I use the table to hold myself up.

"Not until you explain this!" she protests. "Why you were here so late locked in your office, what that note is on the floor, and why you've knocked the screen out of your window!"

"Goddamn it, Franziska, don't make me repeat myself!" As this sentence escapes me, I lift my head to glare at her, my teeth bared. If looks could kill, she would be lying motionless at my feet. I'm sure that I am quite a ghastly sight to behold, my face being covered in blood and gashes from where I have torn the flesh away. The blood still trickling from my mouth has surely added to this, and her reaction reflects all of it.

She must not have gotten a good look earlier, because the color has just drained from her face and she takes a step back from me. For a long time, she stares in horror, and then finally turns away, leaving the room without another word. With the last of my effort, I close the door behind her and make my way over to my couch. There's no way I will be able to clean up that mess, for I can no longer stand. I allow myself to collapse upon it and don't move again. I dread my waking tomorrow when someone finds me here and discovers that note, or happens upon the puddle of blood in the hallway. Why didn't I do it when I had the chance? Now I've just made things so much more complicated.

Now, because of her, I'll have to face another day of this miserable existence.


	2. Chapter 2

Tourniquet

Chapter 2

I brought my arm up instinctively to cover my face as a bright light suddenly invaded my vision, violently waking me from an almost unconscious sleep. A groan of protest was my response as the fluorescent color of the light made me aware of the fact that someone had entered my office. I wasn't ready to awaken yet; in fact, I never wanted to rise again. However, someone had insisted on coming in here despite the door being locked.

"Edgeworth?"

'Goddamn it!' I thought to myself, now even angrier. Why did he have to come here? I made it apparent that I had no intention of speaking with him again. Persistent as ever I suppose. "What do you want, Wright?" I didn't even uncover my face before speaking.

There was a pause before I heard his voice again, uncertain and a bit shaky. "Look… I didn't mean to just…barge in on you like this, but-"

"But you did," I hissed, cutting him off. I was in no mood to converse with anyone, especially not him.

"I've been trying to call you all morning," he defended himself. "I didn't even consider coming here until noon."

Noon? Slowly, I lifted my head from my arms and turned it slightly in his direction. "W-what time is it?"

"Well…" He looked down at his wrist, and I noticed how exhausted he appeared. "…It's about two o'clo- What the hell happened to you?!"

Two o'clock? I couldn't believe I had slept that long. With a sigh, I turned my gaze back to the place where my head had lain and noticed that dried blood shown on the sleeves of my black dress-shirt and on the couch as well. I wondered how long I had bled for and whether I'd even be able to get up anyway.

"Edgeworth!"

I snapped my head to the side again to glare at him. "What?!"

He looked horrified at the sight of me, and I guess I can't blame him. "What… what did you do to yourself!?"

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

Quickly, Phoenix Wright turned to face the door and strode toward the two people standing outside of it. "No, just…stay out there."

"But, Mr. Nick, why?"

"Pearls, stay put, okay?"

Eighteen-year-old Maya Fey—the girl whose life had rested on the outcome of that case—and nine-year-old Pearl Fey; they'd both tagged along to come 'visit' me. I have to give Wright credit for being a gentleman and not allowing them to see what was left of me.

"Nick, what's going on? I told you I wanted to-"

"Maya, I know. Just… I don't think now is the best time."

"Why?"

"Maya, please…"

As I listened to his struggle with the two girls I began to try and sit up, which proved much more difficult than I had anticipated. As soon as I made a motion to get up, the sick feeling in my stomach returned in full swing, causing me to gag and my head to spin. It took everything I had to keep from collapsing again, and I finally managed to sit up while leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Come on, Nick. Why can't we see Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Please, take Pearls and go wait in the lobby. I'll be down in a few minutes."

"But, Nick-"

"Maya! Go!"

Even I was a bit startled at hearing him raise his voice to her like that, and judging by the dead silence that filled the hallway, they were as well. After a moment, she spoke again, but only one word.

"Fine."

There were a few seconds during which Wright stood in the doorway, most likely watching them walk away, before he turned to come back into the room.

"You should go with them," I said, staring intently at the floor.

"Not until you tell me what this is about?" he replied stubbornly.

"I don't have to tell you anything," I said. "I'm not your 'buddy', Wright, as much as you might think so."

"That doesn't matter," he retorted. "You can't deny that this is about yesterday's trial, and I don't understand why you'd do something like this to yourself!"

"Oh really?" I inquired. "And how do you know I did this to myself?"

He gave me an indignant look and folded his arms. "You of all people should know by now that I'm pretty good at figuring things out, and this one was pretty obvious."

As he said this, I took a moment to glance around the room. I found no sign of the sheet of paper that had been lying on the floor near my desk, and the window was now shut. 'Franziska,' was my immediate thought, and I was willing to bet she had taken care of the bloodstain in the hallway. I thought I understood that girl, but after what had just happened, I realized just how clueless I really was.

"Well, answer me."

"Why did you come here?" I felt no need to explain anything to him, but he owed me an explanation. "Are you just worrying about me again? I don't need your sympathy, Wright, and I don't want it either."

"Cool it, Edgeworth," he snapped, now as fed up with me as I was with him. "It actually wasn't my idea to come here because I knew you'd be like this."

"Is that right?" I couldn't suppress that sarcastic laugh. "Then whose idea was it?"

"Maya's!"

I hadn't been looking at him while speaking, but at that point, I had to. "What?"

"That's right," he said, "Maya wanted to come here. I'll have you know she's furious with me. I didn't want it to turn out that way, Edgeworth, but I was stuck. I had a heart-to-heart with her last night, and now she wants to talk to you as well."

I couldn't help but stare at him. My mind began to buzz with questions, and it was a long time before I said anything. "Well… I'm in no condition to have a chat with her at this point."

"Like hell you aren't! You could at least speak to her over the phone, and if you can't even do that, you need to get to a hospital!"

"I'm not going to the hospital, Wright! Now get out of my office!" That death glare had returned to my face, but its effect seemed to be lessened in the daylight. His expression didn't change at all.

"Fine, I'll leave," he finally gave in, "but I think you should talk to Maya. There's no reason for you to be angry with her; it wasn't her fault." With that, he turned his back on me and left the room, closing the door behind him.

With a sigh I pulled on my jacket and did my best to stand up. I needed to get home and clean up; there was no way I could stay there any longer. I flipped the collar of the jacket up to hide what I could of my face and slowly moved toward the door. I could only hope that no one happened to be wandering down the hall.

Unfortunately, just as I was making my way toward the door, it opened again and in stepped Franziska von Karma, looking livid. I opened my mouth to say something, but she strode forward too quickly. Her hand connected with my face with such a force that it knocked my head sideways. I only gave a small hiss of pain then turned back to glare at her.

"Thanks for that," I said darkly. "I'll be leaving now."

"Not yet you won't!" In my unstable condition it was easy for her to push me backward, knocking me back onto the couch. She pinned my shoulders against the back of it and proceeded to glare at me. I just stared back at her, unwilling to fight at this point.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was dangerous. "Do you have no thoughts?!"

"It's none of your fucking business!" I responded in the same tone of voice. "Now get off of me!"

"Not until you justify what you've done!" She wasn't going to let me up.

"I don't have to justify anything to you! And why the fuck do you care?!" We were only speaking quietly so that no one else would hear our conversation, but both of us wanted to start screaming.

"Because I'm the one who found out!" Her hand connected with my cheek again, but this time I gave her no reaction. "I didn't have to get rid of that note or any of the other things I did! I could've let the whole world find out what a weak, pathetic dog Miles Edgeworth really is!"

At this point, I was speechless. I was so angry that I didn't know what to say. I refused to explain myself to her; I didn't have to and I saw no reason to. She could smack me around all she wanted to; I wasn't about to confide anything in that woman.

"Say something!"

I kept my mouth shut, and fortunately a voice came from down the hall. "Miss von Karma?"

She turned quickly and looked toward the door, then back to me, a sigh visibly lowering her shoulders. "All right!" She stood up straight and backed away. "Fine… But I can't wait until your superiors find out about this."

I watched her leave, feeling as if the vein would burst in my temple. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and I was tired of people altogether. One more strained attempt successfully got me unnoticed from the building, to my car, and back home. By that time it had to be about four o'clock, only two hours after I had been awakened. However, I went straight to bed after taking a few minutes to get rid of as much blood as I could. My mind was racing as I lay down to sleep, and a night of insomnia ensued.

I didn't want this; I wanted it to end. But…was death really the only way out? I could see no other option, or was it being held in front of my face? Perhaps I should have called that girl, perhaps I should have talked to Franziska, perhaps I should have just jumped when the chance had presented itself. In any case, I did none of these things. I was tired, drained, and weakened, and I felt only dread for my next rude awakening.


	3. Chapter 3

Tourniquet

Chapter 3

"Worthless! Pathetic! Thick-headed! Weak!"

"Anything else?"

"Y-you… You…"

She was at a loss for words, so angry that even insults seemed useless. She just wanted to punch something… Unfortunately, they were speaking over the phone.

"Is that the only reason you called, or was this important?"

Franziska growled in pure frustration. "It's been three damn days, Miles Edgeworth! Either get to the hospital, or get back to work!" With that, her phone hit the cradle.

Miles Edgeworth stood still, listening to the busy tone on the other end of the line. After a few moments, he too turned off his phone and let it simply fall to the floor. Well, he wasn't about to go to the hospital, so he supposed he should just go into work. It would at least make her stop yelling at him…

Oh wait… Nothing could make her stop yelling at him. She really seemed to enjoy it. Still, he couldn't place his finger on it, but something was different. He wasn't sure if it was her or if it was him, but there seemed to be a new vibration, a new feeling. He had no idea what it was; all he knew was that she seemed different to him. It had all started that night just a few days ago when they had encountered each other in the darkness. It somehow made him feel so much more defensive around…everyone, even her, as if there was something new to hide.

Reluctantly, he straightened himself up and began his ascent upstairs to his bathroom. All he had done these last three days was sleep. He hadn't eaten, and hadn't even showered since the first day. The worst sort of depression had overtaken him, and the only reason he was going in today was to try and get his mind off of it all.

However, as he stood in the shower, allowing the water to rinse away any remaining blood, his thoughts drifted away from him again. His thoughts were as scattered as the tiny droplets of water and seemed to escape him just as easily. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about that trial, about Wright's betrayal, and about her. He watched the red water as it swirled down the drain at his feet, reminding him of himself, slowly spiraling downward into nothing.

He didn't even notice when the water began to cool and became freezing. He had just been simply standing there for an hour before realizing where he was again. Now shivering, he turned off the water and took hold of his towel, pressing it against his face and breathing in the fresh smell of it. The cloth had been warmed from the steam in the bathroom and was somewhat of a small comfort for him. Finally, he dried himself and dawned a suit, not even bothering to iron it. He didn't even mess with his hair; he just let it fall where it would, still soaking wet.

It took him about twice as long as normal to drive to the Prosecution Offices, and to his annoyance, Franziska was standing near the entrance, her arms folded and a scowl upon her lips.

"And what the hell took you so long?" she snapped at him.

"Does it matter?" he replied flatly. "I came in, didn't I?"

The gray-haired woman wrinkled her nose in displeasure at him. "It looks like you just rolled out of bed and into the car."

"Pretty much." Without another word, he strode past her, and at that precise moment, something rather strange happened to her.

As he passed, his hand had brushed her arm ever so slightly, and as if an icy wind had just hit her, a shiver ran down her spine. Shocked, she stared after him, but he didn't even seem to notice. 'What…What was that?' she thought, horrified at her reaction. That had never happened to her before. It had scared her, but for some reason…

…she wished it would happen again.

"Ah, Mr. Edgeworth, nice to see you're back. What-?" The man stopped when Edgeworth didn't. Miles didn't even pay him any attention, but just kept walking. He still had three more flights of stairs to trudge up before reaching his office, and he was determined to get there without any distractions.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

It took him only about a minute or so to finally reach his destination. He let his briefcase drop to the floor and he himself slid down into the chair behind his desk. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his head against the back of it, beginning a session of 'Count the little dots on the ceiling.'

After about five minutes of this, his phone rang, nearly causing him to go into cardiac arrest. While attempting to compose himself, he lifted the phone from the receiver. "Edgeworth," was the greeting he gave, in no mood to even pretend he wanted to be there.

"Hi, Mr. Edgeworth! Are you feeling better?"

There were a few moments during which his brain was having trouble catching up with the series of events, and he couldn't quite figure out why a small child was calling him at the office. Finally, it clicked, however. "Oh… H-hello, Pearl. I'm…okay…" He wasn't really sure how to make conversation with a nine-year-old.

"Great! Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya will be so happy! We were all really worried about you! How did you get sick?"

A sarcastic laugh sounded inside his head, and his lips curled in a reflective manner, but he tried to keep his voice calm and smooth while speaking to this girl. "I…uh…I was outside in the rain for too long." It sounded so incredibly ridiculous, but it was the first thing that came to his mind: the rain.

When the girl spoke again, she sounded shocked. "Mr. Edgeworth! You're a grown-up! You should know not to do that!"

"Grown-ups make mistakes, too," he said, wishing to end this conversation. He felt oddly uncomfortable, and he wasn't sure why. At the same time though, it sort of made him feel just a bit better. Someone so innocent and carefree actually had a desire to speak with him, a man full of bitter hatred and manic depression. It just made him feel slightly cleaner somehow.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Yes?"

"Can we all come see you now? Please!" Young Pearl dragged out the last word to give it emphasis, sounding so hopeful. Miles thought for a moment. He didn't really want to see anyone, especially not Wright, but he knew he'd feel guilty for saying 'no' to the child. 'Damn it, Wright. You did this on purpose, didn't you?'

"Look, Pearl, I…" He hesitated, trying to figure out how to do this kindly.

"Mystic Maya says you can come to lunch with us if you want to. Please, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Pearl… I… I have a lot of work to catch up on, and-"

The little girl laughed, to his bewilderment. "Mr. Nick said you'd say that! You work too much, Mr. Edgeworth. You have to have fun sometimes."

It was as she was speaking that Miles noticed Franziska leaning against the doorframe of his office watching him as he struggled to communicate with the child. "Uh…" He had no idea what to say. "Well, I…"

"Come on, Mr. Edgeworth! We'll meet you there in an hour, okay! Mr. Nick says he'll pay for it! See you later! Bye!" With that, she hung up the phone.

Edgeworth just gaped at the spot above the door, unable to believe that child had just decided to make up his mind for him. He put the phone down and stared at it as if there was something strange about it.

"Going somewhere?"

He snapped his head up to look at Franziska, who hadn't moved from where she stood. She was smirking at him, as if enjoying his struggle. "Uh… I…guess so…"

"Isn't that strange?" she said, coming into the room. "You haven't gone anywhere in three days and now you've suddenly decided to go and hang out with Phoenix Wright."

"Franziska, I didn't _decide_ to do anything. I just-"

"You're just a sucker, Miles Edgeworth."

Miles put a hand on his forehead and leaned back in his chair, a large sigh escaping him.

"Look, I came in here to give you this," she said, reached across his desk to place a manila folder before him. "It'll fill you in on the case we're working. If you look here…"

She had begun to open the folder to point something out; at the same time, however, Miles had reached up to open it himself, causing his hand to rest on top of hers. Both surprised, their eyes met for a brief moment, and then he turned away, removing his hand as he did so. Both of them were doing the best they could to keep the bright red tinge from their cheeks.

Franziska cleared her throat awkwardly. "Um… As I was saying," she opened the folder, "this here is the summary. It's not quite organized yet, so it's sort of in a strange place."

As she talked, she was looking down at the case file, reading upside down. Miles took this opportunity to watch her without her notice. He was wondering why she was even reading this to him in the first place. He could figure it out on his own. However, he wasn't really listening to her anymore to see if there was an important reason; he was too busy staring at her. Now, he could think of no reason to justify why he was staring at her; he just felt like doing so.

"…And section 4 was left out after…" She looked up at him when she felt his gaze on her. Their eyes met again, and she expected him to look away in embarrassment, but he didn't. "U-uh…" Now she was the one feeling strange again. "…I-I think you can figure it out…the rest of it… Um…" She brushed some hair out of her face and stood up, trying not to look at him again. "Okay… I'm going…"

He continued to stare intently at her until she turned and vanished from sight down the hallway. Still, he watched the spot where she had been, feeling something rise up within him. It was like a surge of energy, a shot of pure adrenaline that had made him want to leap over the desk, tackle her to the ground, and not release her. It wasn't anger: he knew for sure it was something more.

After a few moments, he remembered his recent phone conversation. He still had about twenty minutes before he would have to leave. He sighed and picked up the case file, beginning to flip through it with a complete lack of interest. There was only one thing on his mind at this point, and he almost felt wrong for thinking such things.

Still, the reaction he had received from her had really pleased him in some way. It let him know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had influence, power over her for the first time he could remember.

A smirk curled his lips. So, what did this mean?


	4. Chapter 4

Tourniquet

Chapter 4

"Nick was so scared, he almost fell off the bridge! His face was priceless!"

"Hey! You wouldn't have found it funny in the least if I had fallen!"

"True, but you didn't! So it was funny!"

"Mystic Maya, that's not very nice! You're not supposed to do that to the person you love."

"Pearly! Cut it out!"

Miles set the hamburger he had taken about three bites out of back on his plate. He wasn't hungry, but they had all insisted on buying him a meal. He really didn't think he could eat it, though he hadn't had a bite in three days.

"Is that really all you're going to eat, Edgeworth?" Phoenix was looking at him with deep concern.

For a moment, Miles was about to snap at him, but he managed to bite his tongue. "I… I'm really not hungry."

Pearl looked at him with the most dramatic look of worry that he had ever seen. "But, Mr. Edgeworth, you have to eat! You should eat more than Mystic Maya because you're bigger than her."

Phoenix started laughing. "I don't know anyone who eats more than Maya."

"Hey!" Maya punched her friend in the arm. "What are you saying?!"

Miles watched the two pretend to wrestle with each other, but his thoughts were once again elsewhere. He absent-mindedly picked up his burger, taking another bite and chewing very slowly. Only Pearl was watching him, having become bored of watching the other two.

He didn't want to be here. He wasn't so irritated by these people now… No, maybe it wasn't that he didn't want to be with them, he just wanted to be somewhere else more. Oddly enough, that place happened to be the office. He wondered how soon he'd be allowed to excuse himself without being too rude.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Huh?" He looked around to see who had spoken, and he finally found Pearl. "What is it?"

"You look sad."

"Oh?" He had no other response to this.

"Maybe you should come play with me and Mystic Maya!"

Edgeworth's mouth dropped open slightly at this prospect. Did she mean that colorful system of tubes and such in the back of the restaurant? "Um… I…"

"Pearly," Maya laughed. "Mr. Edgeworth is too big to play in there. Besides, he'd get his suit all dirty."

A look of disappointment crossed the child's face. "Aw… Okay… Man, being a grown-up seems really boring."

"I'll play with you, Pearly!" Maya said, jumping up from her seat. She had, of course, inhaled her food.

"Okay!" The two girls took off running, entering the back room and leaving the two attorneys alone.

Miles didn't look up at Phoenix; he was pretending to be suddenly very interested in his meal, which was now rather cold. He was forcing himself to eat just so he wouldn't have to talk.

Phoenix watched him closely, trying to figure out the appropriate conversation starter. "S-so… What've you been doing these past three days? I haven't heard anything."

Miles took quite a long time to answer, chewing his food as slowly as possible. When he finally replied, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Sleeping."

Phoenix watched him expectantly. "…And…"

"That's about it."

Phoenix took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to stay patient. "Why… Why won't you tell me what's going on?" he asked, carefully choosing the tone of which each word was spoken.

This time it was Miles who sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Because, Wright, I don't really know what's wrong myself."

"But, Edgeworth-"

"Look, I need to get back to the office. I'm supposed to be working on…something." Without giving Phoenix a chance to protest, he got up from the table, leaving a five dollar bill in the center of it, a rather large tip considering the entire meal had only cost fifteen.

Phoenix watched him leave, completely at a loss for what to do.

"Oh… You're back already?"

"Yes, and what are you going through my desk for?"

Franziska straightened up and closed the drawer she was digging through. "Well, if you must know, I was looking for th- Why are you staring at me like that?!"

"What?" He moved forward and passed her, sitting down in his chair and leaning back. "Now, what were you looking for?"

"Y-your box-cutter…" It was easy to tell that she was trying to look cold and angry like she usually did, but it was obvious that she was more keen on running away.

Without even shifting from his relaxed position, Miles reached out and pulled open the drawer directly in front of him, removing from it a sharp metal object that resembled a knife. He held it out to her and she cautiously took it, as if afraid to move too quickly.

As she took the tool from him, his free hand made a sudden jolt, but he was able to stay it. He had just been about to seize her wrist, but for what purpose he knew not.

She gawked at him, unable to comprehend this unbelievable change in him. "What… What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" He had turned back to the case file sitting in front of him and was now pretending to read over it again.

"Just this morning you… And now you're…" She didn't think these kinds of mood swings were possible for him. She couldn't even read him at this point. There was no telling how he was feeling, though it certainly wasn't depression.

"Hm, I guess you're right." He looked sideways at her. "Perhaps coming into work did help." He was smirking at her.

"_You work too much, Mr. Edgeworth. You have to have fun sometimes."_

"Why won't you give me a decent answer!?" She was now fed up with this display. It seemed as if he was toying with her.

With a soft chuckle, Miles stood and approached her slowly. She almost backed away, but stood her ground, unwilling to show her fear. She had never in her life seen him act like this, and it disturbed her. First, she had found evidence that suggested he had been about to attempt suicide, and now it seemed he was doing everything in his power to frighten her.

He looked down at her for a moment, observing the look on her face. She was clearly trying to hide what she was feeling as she usually did, but she wasn't doing a very good job of it this time. With his right hand, he reached up and took hold of one of her wrists. He held her arm still, as if keeping her from using the box-cutter against him. Then, with his other hand, he slowly reached up and took hold of the tool, taking it back from her with no resistance. "You want to talk?" he asked, his face now just inches from hers. "Fine then, we'll talk."

Still holding her wrist, he began moving toward the sofa; she followed, almost afraid to resist. For some reason, she felt like one wrong move would cause him to snap, and she had no desire to get into a brawl with this man in broad daylight inside a law office. She had never known him to become violent, but then again, she had never known him to do any of the things he had been doing these past few days.

When they sat down Miles continued to watch Franziska, who in turn kept her gaze focused straight ahead, determined not to look at him. She was finding it easier to maintain her stony expression this way. However, when he leaned back and threw his arm across her shoulders, she couldn't help but react. "M-Miles-"

"So?" he inquired. "You seemed to have quite a few questions before. Why so quiet now?"

"Y-you…" She wanted to move away, but something was stopping her. She looked away from him for a moment, cleared her throat, and then looked back, trying to compose herself. "I wanted to know… w-why. What were you doing here that night and why did you run?"

"I think you've already figured out what I was doing here," he replied, speaking as if the fact that he had been planning to jump from his twelfth-story window was no big deal. "And, as for why I ran…" He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, took in a deep breath, and then continued. "…I didn't want anyone to know I was here. I thought everyone else had left."

"But… I still don't understand how running would have helped you. I did knock on _your_ office door, after all."

"Franziska." He was laughing again as he sat forward, his arm returning to his side. "If I had made it to the elevator and left the building before you caught up to me, you would have had no proof that I had actually been in the building. It could have been anyone in my office. I believe you already know that the note would not have been hard evidence either."

She listened carefully to this, thinking as he spoke. Yes, it was true; there would have been no undeniable evidence left. The note would have been a hint, and would have probably convinced her. However, it didn't prove a thing. That thing could have been written quite a long time ago.

But then, something he said caught her attention, and she only thought of it a few seconds after he had finished speaking. "You were…going for the elevator?"

The look on his face when she glanced up at him was unreadable. Had he really been so out-of-it that he had willingly tried to use the elevator as a means of escape? He turned his head to look forward, trying to remember what he had been thinking that night. Finally, he came to his conclusion.

"Hm, I guess I am pretty fucked up."

"Why, Miles? What could have possibly driven you to do something so insane? A von Karma-"

"I am not a von Karma!" His eyes were suddenly ablaze, causing her to jump a little in shock. He had just flipped completely. "You said it yourself, Franziska. I don't 'deserve' to bare the name von Karma, and I don't!"

She stared at him in disbelief. "Miles…"

"After I came back to prosecute that case, I had a new way of thinking. I set to work on that trial, not simply to defeat Phoenix Wright, but to find the truth behind it. That's my job! Not to be perfect, not to win no matter what. Finding the truth was what I was determined to do, and that's what I did. By working alongside Wright, I found the truth, and my verdict was supposed to be the one handed down."

"But, Miles-"

"I thought I could trust him, Franziska! He gave me every reason to, and he made me believe he trusted me as well. Still, he let that murderer go free, in spite of all that we had worked to discover. After all of the searching I had done while I was gone, I put my faith in that trial, and I was betrayed! That's why, Franziska! It doesn't mean anything anymore! Nothing means anything! I don't mean anything!"

A chilling silence fell over them. So, this was the reason, the story behind his madness.


	5. Chapter 5

Tourniquet

Chapter 5

Franziska stared up at the man she had always known as her Little Brother; she didn't even recognize him now. He had lost his fire, his will, and it had completely changed him in a matter of a few hours. It was as if she was looking into the eyes of a stranger, yet she felt like she knew him now better than ever. It didn't make any sense, and not even her famed 'von Karma logic' could decipher this contradiction.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked. His voice had suddenly become soft and slightly broken up, as if he had driven himself to the brink of tears.

"Miles…" She knew she had to say something to him, but the words were not there. All those times she had called him worthless, and now she found herself searching for a way to make him feel as if his life meant something. And while she looked at him, she noticed how expectant he looked; she couldn't bear the thought of crushing him by just walking away.

"Miles… You… shouldn't say those things." She mentally cursed herself. She had no idea what she was doing or why she was doing it.

He remained silent, just watching her. That couldn't be all she had to say. He needed to hear more; if he didn't, he was afraid he would break down in front of her. This was his last chance.

Franziska took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "You… can't think that way. It will…drive you mad…"

Miles lifted a hand and placed it on the side of her face, turning her head so that he looked directly into her eyes, and as he spoke, he leaned in a bit closer to her. "I think it's a bit too late, don't you?"

"You're not alone, okay! Why else do you think I'd sit here and listen to you wallow in your own fucking self-pity!?" She was on her feet now, her whip in hand. She had instinctively taken it from her waist, feeling as if she was defending herself. "I don't have to give a damn!"

There was another space of time during which neither of them moved, the only sound being Franziska's quick, angry breathing. For that moment, she stood, towering over him, her whip held at the ready, every muscle in her body straining to its limits. Then, the atmosphere changed.

Miles slowly stood, moving past her to stand with his back to the open door, his gaze once more intense. "Show me then," he said, his voice barely audible.

"I don't have to," she replied. "I never say anything that I don't-"

"Prove your words, Franziska von Karma!"

As this sentence was spoken, there arose a moment of panic. Miles Edgeworth had taken a step forward, and Franziska von Karma had raised her whip, closing her eyes. With one powerful thrust of her arm, the unforgiving leather cut the air without mercy. However, there was no closure.

When the German prosecutor opened her eyes again, it was to find something she had thought was impossible. Miles stood only a few feet away from her, perfectly calm with his left hand in the air, the fingers of that hand curled around the other end of her whip. A look of pure horror finally made its way to the surface, and it was all she could do. He had caught it; no one had ever caught it before.

The two of them stood perfectly still for what felt like ages. Then, gradually, Franziska allowed her grip to loosen. Slowly, the whip found its way into his hand, and he took it without hesitation. That familiar snap sliced the silence as he cracked it once, his expression never wavering. Franziska watched him with her arms now hanging down by her sides, suddenly feeling totally helpless.

The transfer of power was complete, and he knew it.

Miles turned around and took a few steps forward, placing his free hand on the door, pushing it closed, and turning the lock. He placed the whip over the doorknob, making sure it stayed put before turning back to face its former handler.

She hadn't moved, and her gaze was now fixed on the floor. However, as he moved steadily toward her, she began to lift her head until he stood right in front of her, their eyes having met. Without looking away from her face, he took hold of one of her hands, bringing it up to chest level.

"There's something I need to know," he told her. "It's right over there." He indicated the whip hanging over the doorknob. "You may stop me at any point you like." After he had finished speaking, he began to lean into her, bending his head down until their lips met. At first, the kiss was light, cautious, and uncertain, but soon, her lips parted, allowing his tongue entry. His hands slowly moved up to grasp the top clasp of her dress and began to undo it.

At this moment, he felt her take hold of both of his wrists, and he lifted his head to look at her, waiting to see what she would do. She was looking down at his hands, her complexion very pale. Something inside of her had told her to push him away, but she didn't know if she really wanted to stop him. She knew exactly what was about to happen and what he wanted from her, and once more, she was torn.

She breathed in sharply and opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. She lowered her head, unable to decide what to do. The thought of what he was about to do frightened her, but at the same time, it excited her. These two emotions were battling each other inside of her, and she knew not which she should be feeling.

'I am a von Karma,' she thought to herself. 'And… a von Karma must never be afraid of anything.' So, if she could not be afraid, that only left her with one choice.

Still uncertain, she began to move her hands upward until they rested on either side of his neck. There was another moment of hesitation, and then she pulled him toward her. They quickly became locked in a passionate kiss as Miles resumed his removal of her clothes.

Within a minute, they both lay upon the sofa in each other's arms, still kissing each other's face and neck. Their clothes lay in two separate piles on the floor nearby, discarded carelessly in this moment of passion.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his breathing heavy as was hers.

"I… I don't know…" Nothing had ever made her this excited in her life, and now she was a little anxious again.

"Close your eyes," he whispered in her ear. "Don't fight it anymore."


	6. Chapter 6

Tourniquet

Chapter 6

Pleasure. Absolute bliss. That's all I felt for that brief moment in time, that moment I had Franziska von Karma. For just those few minutes, she was mine; she belonged to me alone, and nothing in my life had ever given me so much elation. I realized that I had never wanted anything as much as I had wanted her, and now I had her.

Even after we had finished, I was reluctant to release her. I held her small body close to me, my lips pressed against the side of her neck. She elicited a soft moan as I felt her shudder against me. "Is this what you needed?" she whispered, turning her head to look up at me.

"Yes," I whispered back, leaning over to take another taste of her lips. I never wanted this moment to end, but the bustle had started out in the hallway, alerting us to the presence of others. Surely, someone would notice something was wrong.

"I should go," she said, seeming almost as disappointed as I was. She slowly slid out from under me and stood up, picking up her clothes and beginning to garb herself. I lay there watching her, having never fully appreciated how beautiful she really is. She was no longer the little girl I grew up with; she had become a woman, and the feelings that had once seemed so wrong suddenly seemed so perfect.

When she was nearly finished, I too stood and pulled my suit back on, not even concerned that it looked even more of a mess than it had that morning. Franziska stood there waiting for me silently until I straightened up and approached her again.

"Do you understand now?" I asked, pushing her soft hair behind her ears and resting my hands on either side of her face.

"Not entirely," she replied, looking up at me. "But… I'll figure the rest out soon." She leaned forward and lifted her head so that we shared one more kiss before she turned to leave the room.

When she reached for the knob, her hand fell upon her whip and she withdrew it as if she had touched something scalding hot. She simply stared at the object, and I suddenly felt like I knew what she was thinking.

"What's wrong?" I asked, now standing beside my desk.

She hesitated for quite a while before answering. "I… N-nothing." She reached out again and took the whip in her hand, quickly leaving the room. She didn't turn in the direction that would have taken her to her office, however; it seemed as if she was heading toward the other end of the hall, meaning she was probably leaving. I sighed and laughed at the same time, turning to walk behind my desk and sit down.

Who knew? The advice of a nine-year-old child was all I had really needed.

It was dark outside by the time Franziska finally lifted her head from her tear-soaked pillow to check the time. It was a few minutes after ten o'clock at night, and she knew sleep was going to be nearly impossible to attain. She just couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard she tried.

No, she didn't understand at all; she had blatantly lied to him. There were so many questions she desperately racked her brain to answer, but it was futile. These were the types of questions that could not be found in a book or simply analyzed logically; these were the types of questions that required much more than that.

Why had she done it? How had Miles managed to completely control her by just the single act of taking hold of her whip? Why didn't she hate him for it? It was as if that whip held her spirit within it, as if it held her courage, her strength, and all that made her Franziska von Karma.

Suddenly, she gasped, sitting bolt upright. That whip… it had once been her father's. Could that really be it? Perhaps that cold piece of leather was the symbol of her heritage. Perhaps all that she was expected to be, all that she thought she wanted to be, was contained within it.

Then arose another question. "Who… am I?" she whispered to herself, her face as pale as death as she stared straight ahead. If she had completely lost herself when that whip had left her possession, then she was not who she thought herself to be. It was just a disguise, a curtain, hiding her from the rest of the world, and even from herself.

She once more broke into violent sobs, covering her face with her hands. So, that weak girl who had entirely submitted herself to Miles Edgeworth… that was really her? That was really who she was? It was a devastating realization. "That means… everything that Father always said… is true…" She couldn't bear the thought of it, and what bothered her most was the possibility that Miles had known it all along.

This brought her back to another of her many questions. Why had he done it? Had it been love, or was it only lust? Had he really just used her? According to all that she had ever heard about men, he really felt nothing for her at all. Also, if he had known who she really was all this time, it would have been all the easier for him to trap her. He would have known that all he had to do was take away her fire, and then she would not be able to fight his advances. She recalled the couple hours before it had happened, the way he had been looking at her, the way he had spoken to her. So… It hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment thing. He had been planning this 'rape' all day.

But then… what if he really did care? What if his feelings for her had existed all this time, and she had been too caught up in her own affairs to even notice? She had never once in her life known what love felt like or what it was to feel loved, so how could she judge whether or not this particular incident was love? And, did she feel the same way? Once more, she didn't know what it was to love somebody, so she was clueless as to if what she was feeling was that emotion. It was all so confusing, and by now she had a pounding headache.

After a few more hours of this, she finally cried herself to sleep, exhausted from the whole ordeal. Her dreams finally took her away from her chaotic reality, until their subject became her chaotic past.

_Nineteen-year-old Miles Edgeworth sat alone in the enormous library of the von Karma Manor, reading silently from a red, leather-bound book. The book was a few inches thick with a title written in fancy gold lettering. Both the title and the tiny print upon the pages were written in German, but he seemed to read them with ease. He wore black dress pants, a dark blue colored shirt, and a black lamb's leather jacket, contrasting vividly with the beige cushions he sat upon. _

_Light footsteps soon invaded the silence, and Miles glanced up to see a twelve-year-old Franziska von Karma coming down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she looked around for only a moment before spotting Miles. "Good morning, Little Brother," she greeted him, walking over to where he sat. _

"_Morning, Big Sis," he said while looking back at his book. When she approached him, he scooted back on the padded bench and spread his knees so that she could sit between them, for she was much smaller than he was. She leaned back against him and began to read from the same book._

_They sat like this for what must have been two or three hours until Franziska's head lulled onto Miles's arm as she fell asleep. He peered down at her curiously, observing dark circles beneath her eyes. 'She must have been up all night studying,' he concluded, knowing how badly she wanted to leave this place. He too had started making arrangements for his departure; he had been planning to start his career as a prosecutor back in the United States, whereas she would most likely stay in Germany. _

_He dared not show it, but he had always pitied this girl. He himself had been the victim of Manfred von Karma's anger a fair number of times, but never to the extent that she had suffered it. He could see a few of the bruises that had been left on her face and arms from his most recent attack against her. He really didn't understand how someone could hate their own child so much, but he never dared to question it. _

_Then, as he sat there watching her sleep, something came over him. She seemed so much more peaceful while she slept, more… precious. Without even considering the consequences of this sudden impulse, he bent his head low and placed his lips upon her slender neck, kissing it tenderly. As he did this, he felt her grip on his sleeve tighten and her eyes fluttered open. _

"_W-what are you doing?" she asked groggily as he slowly lifted his head again, peering down at her. "What was that?" Strangely enough, she didn't sound angry at all like he had expected she would be. To the contrary, she sounded sincerely confused. _

"_What do you mean?" he asked, rather confused himself._

_She kept staring up at him, her eyes only half open. "What was that you were just doing?"_

_He couldn't stop himself from gaping at her. "That was…" If he told her, would she then know? He couldn't believe she really didn't. "That was… a kiss."_

"_A… kiss?" She looked away from him for a moment, then looked back. "What's that mean?"_

_There was no way! How could she not know what a kiss was? "You… really don't know what a kiss is?"_

_She shook her head. "No. Why would I?" She was giving him an indignant look, for it seemed he thought she was stupid. "No one's ever done that to me before." _

"_But…" This was mind-boggling. "…Haven't you seen people kiss on television?" It wasn't quite as surprising that she had never been kissed before; he was really the only person who gave a damn about her, but for her to not even know what a kiss really was… It seemed impossible._

_Again, she shook her head. "You know I only watch television programs if they have to do with the law or politics, and people don't… kiss each other on those. Television has no other uses. Only unintelligent fools watch all the other foolish programs."_

"_I… suppose that makes sense…" So, she really had no idea. His thoughts were racing as he tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to say in this situation._

"_So," she said, glaring at him. "Are you going to explain to me what you were doing putting your mouth on me?"_

_He made a strange face upon hearing this. The way she said it made it sound kind of disgusting. "Well, a kiss… A kiss is something that two people who… are close will share." He paused, seeing the look that she was giving him. "I mean… Like, a brother and sister, for example."_

"_Oh." She seemed to become less angry. "So, who else would share a… kiss?"_

"_Well… parents usually kiss their children, and people who are in love…"_

_Now, she looked confused. "Father has never kissed me."_

'_Oh damn,' he thought to himself. "Um… well… Not all-"_

"_You don't have to lie to me, Little Brother," she said, lowering her head sadly. "I think I understand why."_

_Miles sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the arm that Franziska was not leaning against. "Look, Franziska-"_

"_And what the hell is this all about?"_

_Both of them visibly jumped as that deep, menacing voice echoed throughout the entire high-ceilinged room. Manfred von Karma stepped into their view, his left hand resting upon his cane. He looked livid, and Miles wondered nervously how long he had been listening to them. _

"_What exactly brought up that ridiculous conversation?"_

"_F-Father…" Franziska's face was deathly pale as she tried to explain the situation, though she knew there would be no getting out of this one regardless of what she said. _

"_Miles!"_

"_Yes, sir?" He was determined to keep his composure, though this predicament was a bit frightening._

"_What do you think you're doing with her?!" He was referring to the way they were sitting together, and Miles realized what it must look like. _

"_We were reading, Sir," he responded flatly, indicating the book that still lay open in Franziska's lap. _

"_Is that so?" He strode forward, now standing only a few feet away from them. "It looked more like she was sleeping to me!"_

"_Father, I… I'm sorry. I just-"_

"_Don't give me excuses, you little wretch!" He lifted his cane threateningly and Franziska cowered against Miles. _

"_I'm sorry, Father! Please…"_

"_You're worthless! How can you ever hope to achieve perfection as a prosecutor if you can't even stay awake while studying!? How many times do I have to do this, Franziska!?"_

"_No! Please!" The child threw up her arms to protect her head and face, preparing for the first shot of another savage beating._

…_But it didn't come._

_Confused, the girl uncovered her face and turned her head to look in her father's direction. However, the first thing she saw was the black sleeve of Miles's jacket. She could also see her father's face, which bore an expression of utter disbelief. Next, she noticed that the arm she had been leaning against was now wrapped tightly around her small body as Miles held her against him._

_Still lost, she took another look. Her father was holding the top part of his cane with both hands as he always did when swinging it at somebody. However, he was not the only one holding that weapon. _

_Miles had his hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the cane, obviously having stopped it from finding its way to Franziska. The young girl gaped at this sight in amazement, unable to believe what she was seeing. Then, that amazement turned immediately to horror as she saw her father's face redden with the purest rage._

"_You." he snarled viciously, his teeth bared. "You!" he then bellowed. "How dare you, you little son of a bitch!"_

_There was no stopping it this time. A sickening 'thud' sounded as the finely polished wood connected with the side of the young man's head, unseating him abruptly. Both Miles and Franziska were sent to the floor, the girl still held protectively against him. _

_Though brightly colored stars had exploded before his eyes, Miles managed to push himself up off the ground and support himself on his hands and knees, positioning himself over Franziska, who now lay curled up beneath him. There was a 'swish' and another sickening 'thud', and Miles gritted his teeth and closed his eyes feeling as if his spine would split in half. _

"_I will show you what happens when you defy me, Boy!" Manfred von Karma continued to swing his cane, beating Miles mercilessly on the back, neck, and head. At first, the young man was able to keep himself from screaming, allowing at most small grunts and gasps of pain to escape him. Soon, however, he could not stop himself from crying out with each blow, the pain being far worse than anything he had ever suffered. It was also about this time when blood began to drip from his open mouth, and he choked on it each time he managed to breathe in, which was a near impossible task in itself._

_Still, no matter how many times that man struck him, no matter how much pain he was in, and no matter how much blood pooled before him, Miles never moved from that position. He remained sturdy, shielding Franziska from any harm. _

_It felt like ages to him before the beating finally stopped and he heard von Karma's angry breathing above him. "Never, EVER-" One more crack, followed by an agonized scream. "-cross me again! Do you hear me, Boy!? After all I've given you, you have the audacity to pull a stunt like this! If it ever happens again, I swear to you that I will end your miserable existence!" And with that final threat, he strode from the room, his heavy footsteps slowly dying away until Miles's ragged breathing was the only sound remaining._

_An anguished moan sounded in his throat, followed by a choking cough that splattered more blood onto the carpet. "Oh… God…" he groaned miserably, his voice shaking as badly as his entire body._

_Franziska stared up at him in terror. "Miles?" No, he was seriously hurt and needed medical attention immediately, but she knew he wouldn't get it. She couldn't believe that someone had actually taken such a brutal beating for her sake. Her little brother… had made a sacrifice for her wellbeing. "Miles, you're hurt. You-"_

"_Move…"_

"_Huh?" She noticed that he was now shaking more violently than before and his face was strained. "What did you-"_

"_Move!"_

_She had only a moment's time to roll out of the way before he collapsed, unable to hold himself up any longer. His head now rested in the puddle of blood that had formed below him, and it still ran in a thin, steady stream from the corner of his mouth. _

"_Miles… Miles!" Franziska didn't even bother trying to hold back her tears as she began shaking him. "Oh my God… Somebody! Help!" She lay down beside him, embracing his unconscious form and crying into the back of his jacket. _

"_Please, Miles, wake up! Somebody… help us…"_


	7. Chapter 7

Tourniquet

Chapter 7

"This ceremony has been graciously organized in celebration for another wonderful year."

Where could she be?

"I expect all of you to attend to show your appreciation, even if you can't stay."

He couldn't find her anywhere among the rest of them.

"The ball will officially start at eight o'clock; please come dressed appropriately."

She usually stood out in a crowd; why couldn't he find her?

"We hope you'll all have an excellent time. You may bring a spouse or friend if you wish."

It wasn't like her to just skip a conference, even if it was trivial.

"Thank you all for attending. This meeting is adjourned."

Miles stayed in his seat as the rest of his co-workers began to gather the papers that lay on the long tables in front of them and leave the room. He watched both exits, trying to catch a glimpse of her light gray hair, but he couldn't seem to find it anywhere. With a sigh, he stood and made to leave as well, baffled at why she hadn't shown up. He hadn't seen her yet that day, but he had felt sure she'd turn up at the meeting.

He began to get worried. It was definitely not like Franziska to miss a day of work, even if she fell ill. She had said it to him once before: _"Perfect attendance is also a part of achieving perfection. You should know that, you fool!"_

He grinned and sighed at the same time. Just thinking about her made his heart do a sort of excited jumping trick inside his rib cage. He had placed the previous day in his memory as the single best day of his life, and he wouldn't soon forget how it had felt. The memory of it gave him visible chills as he sat at his desk thinking.

However, he still found himself a little worried. Why hadn't he seen her? He had to conclude that she simply had not come into work, but that idea troubled him. 'Something must be very wrong,' he thought, reaching for the phone that sat upon his desk.

Franziska groaned in annoyance and rolled over onto her other side, covering her head with her pillow in an attempt to block out that irritating ring. "Hang up!" she yelled groggily as if the person calling could hear her voice without the call even being answered. This was the third time in the past five minutes! Couldn't they just let her sleep?!

Fortunately, when the ringing stopped, it did not restart. The German prosecutor sighed and snuggled deeper into her bed linens, wishing to fall asleep quickly. She had been sleeping for so long that she had a splitting headache, so being awake was not a very enjoyable state at this particular time.

Soon, she began to drift back to sleep, and just as her dreams were about to take her again…

'BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!'

"Oh my fucking God!" In pure rage, she threw the covers off herself and sat up. She hadn't heard the doorbell ringing, for there was no speaker inside her bedroom and her door was closed. Now, whoever was outside was beating so loudly on the door that it had awakened her from her dozing.

With an angry sigh, she lay back down, putting the pillow over her head once more to try and drown out the noise. For a bit longer, she could still faintly hear it, and then it stopped, allowing the silence to envelope her once more.

However, this silence felt eerie. For some reason, her heart was pounding in her throat, and she found her breathing to be quite a bit heavier than normal. Something wasn't right.

Trembling, she finally forced herself to get out of bed. She moved to the door of her room and then paused, listening, with her hand resting on the knob. When she heard nothing, she slowly slid the door open and crept down the hall, holding her breath as she did so.

She stopped suddenly with a gasp as she heard footsteps coming in her direction. Something was wrong with her; she was utterly terrified. She was panicking now, looking side to side with wide eyes, unable to decide what to do. She wanted to run, but felt frozen to the spot.

Her whip! That would help her… No, she didn't have it on her. She had left it on the dining room table after coming home, and there was no way to get to it from where she stood.

She was hyperventilating now, and her vision and hearing seemed to be failing her. "No…" she whispered, feeling suddenly so sick that she doubled over, one arm around her own stomach and one hand over her mouth. "Oh God… No… No… I can't…" She was going to faint; she knew it. She swallowed hard the lump that was rising in her throat, tears of fright forcing their way to the surface.

She felt herself fall sideways into the wall as she fought the blackness with all of her willpower. She couldn't control her breathing, and she was choking on her sobs. "No… N-no…"

Her auditory sense was gone now; not even her own voice reached her ears. She could no longer feel a thing, and only knew she had hit the floor when the bottom trim was at her eye level. Everything was dark and getting darker. Soon, the blackness consumed her, and she knew no more.

"Franziska?"

"Oh God… No… No… I can't…"

His footsteps quickened at the sound of Franziska's panicked voice and desperate shallow breathing. Something was wrong.

"No… N-no…"

"Franziska!"

He was running toward the sound now, and just then he heard a heavy 'thud', like something falling to the floor. The panicked breathing was starting to die away, and when he wheeled into the hallway, it had stopped.

"F-Franziska!" Miles did something like a baseball slide across the carpet, coming to rest at her side. "Franziska!" She was out cold. He placed a hand beneath her head and lifted it slightly to get a look at her face.

She was as white as a ghost and was covered in a freezing sweat, but other than that, he saw nothing wrong. Her breathing was naturally stabilizing itself and she soon ceased to tremble. He concluded that she must have just…fainted. There was no blood, no one else around, so that was the only explanation he could come up with.

It was as he looked at her pale face that he saw how red and puffy her eyes were. She had been crying. Bewildered, he lifted her into his arms and stood, cradling her as he headed down the hall toward her bedroom. All the while he was wracking his brain. She hadn't seemed upset; she had been so at ease. So, why…?

Upon entering her room, he witnessed how in disarray it was. The sheets on the bed were halfway pulled from the mattress and the comforter lay in a heap on the floor. It appeared that several things had been thrown carelessly to various parts of the room.

Gently, he laid her upon the bed, adjusting her pillows and the other linens to make her comfortable. 'They're wet,' he observed, running his hand across her pillow. 'How long has she been…?' He sighed and flipped it over to the dry side, placing her head upon it and pulling the blankets up to her chin.

Miles stepped back, watching her sleep. She was now taking deep, steady breaths, her chest moving up and down with ease. He still couldn't imagine what had happened to her to cause all of this, but the nagging feeling in the back of his mind was telling him that this was his fault.

With another deep sigh, he sat down on the window ledge and proceeded to watch her. He had done this more times than she knew, ever since these strange feelings had come to his attention. It gave him a sort of inner peace to observe such innocence and beauty. The whole world saw her as a vicious, evil, cold-hearted woman with no remorse and no human emotion, but Miles Edgeworth knew the truth. It was all a façade that even she had forced herself to believe in. That devil woman was nothing more than what Manfred von Karma had coerced her into becoming. She was just a victim, a poor, innocent child who was never given the opportunity to become her own person. He wanted nothing more than to give her that chance, and to be there for her whenever she needed a helping hand or some loving guidance.

Slowly, Miles stood and approached the bed, climbing in and wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. Franziska then chose that moment to stir, taking in a sharp breath of air as her senses gradually returned to her.

For a moment, she lay still, not even opening her eyes. However, she soon felt the warmth that surrounded her and the strong arms that held her tightly. Still only half aware, she lifted her head to look up at the person holding her, only to meet the calm, gray eyes of Miles Edgeworth.

When she looked at him, a soft smile appeared on his face, not a smirk like she had expected to see. As she gazed at him, he placed his hand on the side of her head, smoothing her hair back out of her face and then holding her to his chest. "Are you all right?" he questioned in a whisper, his other hand moving up and down her back in a soothing manner.

She didn't answer his question. Instead, she only huddled closer to him, breathing a shaky sigh to try and relax in his embrace. She felt hollow and very cold after her panic attack and all the crying she had done. She didn't care that he had been the primary cause of her affliction; he was there with her now, comforting and protecting. She was a nervous wreck, and all she needed was someone to show her they cared.

They lay like that for hours, neither really even bothering to keep track of the time. Finally, it was Franziska who broke the silence, her voice muffled as she spoke into Miles's chest. "Why are you here?" She had been wondering this for a while now, but hadn't had the energy to question his presence. Now, she felt calmer and more awake, so it seemed necessary to ask him.

"It's not like you to skip work, Franziska," he replied, still speaking very softly. "You missed the meeting today, and I was worried. I tried to call a few times, but there was no answer."

"Oh…" She waited, trying to figure out how she would answer the question she was sure he would ask her next. He'd want to know why she hadn't shown up. Then, he'd want to know why she had been crying, and why he had found her unconscious in the hallway. Could she really tell him the truth? She shuddered to think of his reaction to her thoughts. Would he understand, or would her worst fears be realized? She had no idea what he was really thinking at that moment, and some of the possibilities frightened her.

However, only silence followed. He didn't say a word. This caused Franziska to look up at him in confusion. "Don't you… want to know why I didn't come?"

Miles peered down at her, giving her another kind smile. "I just assumed that if you thought I should know, you would tell me. I don't want to be pushy." His grin turned to one of amusement upon seeing the shocked look on her face.

"Y-you… You really don't…" She didn't know what she wanted to say. She couldn't believe that he had just left it all up to her. He wasn't going to bother her about it at all.

Miles nodded. "I just came to make sure you're okay. You scared me there," he said, kissing the top of her head lightly. A bit of color flushed in her cheeks and she hid her face in his red jacket, hearing a soft laugh from above her. "Don't cry anymore, all right?"

"Okay," she replied, her own smile finally breaking through, though it could not be seen. She was thinking now of that dream she had witnessed the night before, that memory of their past together. In that memory, he had been protecting her at his cost, and before that, he had taught her what it meant to be loved, though she hadn't realized it until just now. So, why would he have used her? She felt almost sure that he was being true, that he only meant well, that he really did care for her. She was convinced that it had been an act of love, and that he was protecting and caring for her now. She still had her doubts and questions, but while he held her, she laid them aside for another day.

She wanted to enjoy this moment to its fullest, just in case it would never come again.


	8. Chapter 8

Tourniquet

Chapter 8

"_Breaking news! Brad Sanders, an escaped convict charged with the murder of an entire family in San Diego, was just captured by two FBI agents right here in the heart of LA. Terry is live on the scene. Terry."_

"_Thanks, Jim. I'm not being allowed to get too close, but as you can see behind me-"_

"Boring." Miles pointed the remote control at the television and began flipping through the channels.

"Hey!" Franziska protested, sitting between his knees on the couch in her living room. "I'm the one who got that foolish bastard convicted, you know."

"Cool." Miles began laughing as she whipped her head around to glare up at him. "Well, they caught him; I think that's all we really need to know."

"Yes, you're right," she said, calming down and leaning against him again as he continued to look for something to watch. He finally settled on the opening credits of some movie neither of them had ever heard of, and Franziska decided to just close her eyes and rest her head on his arm. She couldn't help but giggle a little as he started to absent-mindedly play with her hair, much more interested in the movie than she was.

It was about nine o'clock at night, and he had only just managed to convince her to get out of bed. She still wasn't feeling the greatest after all the crying, sleeping, and fainting she had done, but he had made her some coffee and something to eat, giving her enough energy to stay awake for a while.

As they sat there together, Franziska began to think about how she felt. She really wasn't all too sure. Sitting here with his arms around her as he gently ran his fingers through her hair made her feel so content, so happy and at peace. However, at the exact same time, something about this terrified her beyond reason. That was when the question of herself returned to her. She was vulnerable now, completely open to anything he wished to do. She knew it, and it was apparent to her that he knew it as well. He hadn't hesitated in any of his actions since arriving earlier that day, telling her that he was confidently in control.

What frightened her the most was the possibility of having her clothes removed again. He could do it again, and she was so afraid that she wouldn't be able to stop him if she wanted to. Yes, she would admit to having very strong feelings for him, but she wasn't ready. She hadn't been ready the previous day either, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him so. Even though he had asked her, something about him gave her the impression that her answer to that question would have changed nothing.

So, what if he wanted to sleep with her again tonight? What could she do? She wouldn't dare call it rape, for it seemed his intentions were not sinister at all and she hadn't given any obvious protests. Still, the thought remained frightening, and she couldn't help but jump a little as at that exact moment, she felt something warm against the side of her neck.

"_That was…a kiss."_

So, he had lost interest in the movie and had now taken to lovingly sucking on her neck. This action gave her chills and she couldn't help but give another small giggle. When he received this reaction from her, Miles trailed the kisses upward until he reached her lips and she began to kiss him back. Taking this for a golden invitation, Miles tightened his hold on her and eased them both down so that they now lay on the cushions, his much larger body almost completely concealing her. He had long since turned off the television.

Suddenly, Franziska's thoughts returned to her, alerting her to what was going on. Her fight-or-flight instinct snapped into action, and without warning she pulled her face away from his and began to struggle. Surprised, Miles lifted himself off of her just enough for her to slip out from under him and fall to the floor.

"Franziska?" He stared down at her in utter confusion. 'What the hell just happened?' was his only thought as he watched her lying there and shaking.

Cautiously, he too slid off of the couch onto his knees beside her. "Franziska?" He made to take hold of her sides and lift her from the ground, but she let out a cry as he did so.

"No!" Her voice was muffled as she lay on her stomach with her face covered by her arms. Her body was jerking with sobs, and Miles didn't understand what this was all about.

"Franziska, it's okay," he said softly, leaning over her. "What's wrong?"

"Please…" She sobbed. "N-not again… Please…"

Now very concerned and even more confused, Miles again made to pick her up, and this time she didn't scream at him, though she didn't seem to want to be touched. He gathered her in his arms and stood up, holding her close to him as he began whispering to her words of reassurance. He rocked slowly from side to side as if cradling a small child that had just experienced a terrible nightmare.

After a couple minutes of this, Franziska's crying became much less panicked and her entire body relaxed considerably so that she became almost limp. Taking care not to make any sudden movements, Miles made his way back to the couch, taking a seat and setting her across his lap, still holding her close to him. "It's all right. You're going to be fine. Just calm down." He held her head against his right shoulder and gently kissed her forehead, hoping to sooth her, though he still had no idea what had come over her.

"M-Miles…" She looked so frightened that he could hardly stand it. "Please… Don't… Not again… Please…"

"W-what?" She was pleading with him, as if he was hurting her somehow. "Franziska, what's wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I-I'm… so s-sorry. Please…just… please don't do it again."

His mouth dropped open upon hearing this. "Franziska, are you…?" He couldn't believe what this meant, but at the same time… it made perfect sense. "Are you…afraid of me?"

There was a tense silence between them aside from her continued sobs. She didn't answer him; she couldn't bring herself to, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

With a miserable sigh, he placed a hand beneath her chin, lifting her head so that she looked directly into his eyes. The fear was apparent to him now, and he felt his heart sink. "Franziska," he said in the softest, most gentle tone he could muster. "I would never, ever intentionally do anything to hurt you, and if I have, please tell me."

Franziska took in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to stop her crying. "M-Miles… I… I really do… want to be with you." She was clutching tightly the lace cravat that hung around his neck and was holding it to her face. "I'm s-sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said, brushing her hair back from her wet face. "Just tell me. Why are you afraid?"

"I d-don't… I don't know."

Miles shook his head. "Franziska, please… There has to be a reason. What have I done?"

She hesitated again. He seemed so gentle and ready to listen and understand, but she just felt so guarded. However, there was really no point in hiding anything anymore; he had already seen her exposed. "Y-yesterday… when you took my whip from me… I just… I felt… helpless…" She paused again, trying to find the right words as he watched her, listening carefully. "I-I didn't know what to do. I was excited, but at the same time… I realized that I felt powerless, controlled. I know… you didn't mean to, but the last person to ever have power over me was…"

She didn't even need to finish the sentence; he knew to whom she was referring. The news hit him like a ton of bricks, a knife to the heart. He…had reminded her of her father.

"Miles, I'm so sorry. I really… really…"

"No, Franziska," he cut her off. "I… I understand. I'm the one… who should be sorry. I never even stopped to think about what I was doing to you." With that, he stood up and placed her carefully on the couch. Their eyes met one more time as he looked at her sadly, then he turned his back, walking away from her with his head down. He couldn't believe it; the one person he had kept himself alive for, and he had hurt her.

"Miles."

He stopped walking, hesitant to look back, but when he did he saw her coming toward him. "Franziska-"

"Miles, please… I never said I wanted you to leave." She looked like she'd start crying again, but she was fighting it.

He just looked at her, unsure of what to say. "But… You just-"

She now stood right in front of him. "Miles… I never meant…" She swallowed hard and wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to arrange her feelings into words. "Miles, you're the only one… who has ever given a damn whether I live or die. You're the only one who has ever believed in me, the only one who's ever stood by me no matter what I chose to do. You… you showed me what it was to be…loved…" She couldn't stop them: the tears overcame her once again and she threw her arms around his neck. "I… I can't lose you, too. Please… give me a chance to figure this out. Please."

There were a few moments of silence between them as Miles gazed into her eyes, seeing the near desperation within them. Yes, he wanted to stay more than anything, but if she was afraid of him, then he would be hurting her despite how badly she thought she needed him. However, he could not refuse such a plea from her; she just kept breaking his heart.

Finally, he wrapped his arms around her in turn. "If you're sure," he said. "I just don't want to hurt you anymore."

She rested her head against his shoulder with her eyes closed in content. "I'm sorry, Miles. I… I really should have said something before. I just-"

"No," he stopped her. "I should have known better. How about we just slow this down a bit?"

She looked up to see a smile on his face again, and she returned it as best she could. "Yes, I think that would be for the best."


	9. Chapter 9

Tourniquet

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own the Phoenix Wright games or characters, but Phoenix Tilea, Ares Taylor, and Brad Sanders are all my original characters.

Chapter 9

7:29 pm

"Goddamn… Okay, there." Franziska finished adjusting her necklace and straightening up. She scrutinized herself in the full-body mirror in front of which she stood, tilting her head this way and that to get a better look. She was not used to seeing herself dressed like this; it had probably been about five or six years since she had dressed this formally.

A navy-blue velvet dress flowed eloquently around her ankles and was held up by a single strap that tied around her neck. A string of pearls hung around her neck as well with a dark blue gem on the end of it that glimmered brightly when the light hit it. Her earrings matched with a smaller version of that same stone dangling an inch below each ear. Around her waist was a shining silver belt with yet another set of dark blue stones spaced evenly all the way around. The outfit was made complete with a pair of black high-heeled shoes. She had somehow managed to French braid her own hair--which she had been letting grow out lately--and also wore a silver headband presenting the last set of gems.

7:30 pmf

She jumped slightly as the sound of the doorbell resounded throughout the house. 'It'll have to do,' she thought as she made a mad dash for the front door. Her heart was beating like that of a humming bird with nerves and excitement.

She pulled open the door to meet Miles Edgeworth, wearing a black tuxedo and carrying half a dozen roses in his right hand. He had taken extra care with his appearance as well and looked more appealing than usual. The smell of his cologne that wafted to her nearly made her swoon and she lowered her head to hide the blush on her cheeks.

Miles was stunned at the sight of her. He had felt sure he would be surprised, but he had never imagined this. "Hello," he said with a playful smile on his lips. "Is Miss von Karma home?"

She laughed and stepped across the threshold, placing one hand on the flowers and leaning forward to give him a quick kiss. "You look gorgeous," he said, giving her the flowers.

"And you look even more handsome than usual," she said, kissing him again on the cheek. "I'll go find a vase for these." She turned and headed back inside, moving rather quickly. Miles stepped inside as well, but lingered in the entrance hall to wait.

After a moment, Franziska returned with the flowers in a green and gold vase, placing them on a table near the door. She then turned back to Miles. "Are you sure… we should be going together?" She looked a bit concerned.

"That's entirely up to you," he replied, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Personally, I've stopped caring what the rest of them think."

"I'm just not thrilled at the thought of how the tabloids will exploit this," she stated as she came to stand in front of him. "You know how talented they are at turning something so harmless into a major ordeal."

Miles nodded. "Well, this is a closed party. Unless somebody brings a reporter as a date, I don't think we should have any problems."

"I guess it doesn't really matter anyway," Franziska finally concluded. "After all, we've both dealt with much worse."

"Damn straight!" Miles replied, the grin returning to his face. "Ready to go?" His keys were now in his hand.

"Yes."

"You're sure this time?"

Franziska laughed again. "Yes, I'm sure this time."

"Okay." They exited the house, Franziska locking the door behind her. Miles opened the passenger side door of his red sports car for her and then proceeded to take the wheel. He expertly steered the car down the long driveway and onto the street beyond, estimating that this drive would take about twenty minutes.

As they rode in silence, Miles kept glancing over at her briefly, still unable to believe what he was seeing. He had never expected her to appear in public like this with him. Normally, she would be so concerned about how people would view her that she would have flat out refused to go as his date; she had expressed some doubt back at the house, but had been easily convinced it was no big deal. It seemed that without even trying, he had completely changed her personality. Or maybe, this was the real Franziska von Karma, and the heir to Manfred von Karma was truly nonexistent.

They arrived at the auditorium with ten minutes to spare and drove around for a bit looking for a decent parking spot. Miles finally had to settle for something in the back, giving them a little while to walk. He hadn't expected there to be so many people here and had to conclude that the prosecutors weren't the only ones invited.

The doorman checked their names on the list when they reached the front entrance and they were allowed to enter. As they had expected, this place was full of people. Most were sitting down at one of the many four-person tables set up all around the ballroom. They saw plenty of couples, some groups of businessmen, and a few groups of women sitting together, all chatting casually with glasses of wine or soft drinks before them.

"Let's see if we can find a table," Miles suggested, already scanning the room.

"If we must share a table," Franziska began, "I'd rather sit with someone we don't know."

"That's probably for the best," he agreed, not wishing to be gawked at by their colleagues the entire time. However, before a place to sit was scoped out, a familiar voice sounded from behind them.

"Hey, Edgeworth!"

'You've got to be kidding me,' Miles thought as he slowly turned his head. Sure enough, he saw Phoenix Wright coming through the crowd of people that had just entered. He was also wearing a black tuxedo and had obviously tried to flatten out his normally spiky hair, though it hadn't really worked all too well.

"Hey there, Edgeworth," Phoenix greeted him when he finally approached them. "I was hoping you'd come. You look like you're feeling better." His eyes then traveled a bit lower to the woman with a hand on Miles' arm. "And…" His speech got caught in his throat upon recognizing Edgeworth's date. "M-miss… v-von Karma?" He kept staring, unable to believe his eyes. "Y-you look…"

"Put your eyes back in your head, Wright," Miles warned him. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh," Phoenix suddenly looked embarrassed for his reaction. "Uh, well, Gumshoe invited me."

Franziska gave a short, almost haughty laugh. "I suppose no one else here would ever talk to that detective for an extended amount of time."

Phoenix gave a nervous chuckle, trying to hide his blush. "Heheh, I guess so."

Miles looked upon his rival harshly. "Wright, don't you feel a bit…surrounded?" As he said this last word, he looked around momentarily, indicating that the majority of the party's attendants worked at the prosecution offices.

"Neh," replied Phoenix with a wave of his hand. "This isn't court or anything; it's just a little get-together, right?"

Miles frowned slightly. "Sure…"

"Um, well…" Phoenix scratched the back of his head. "I…think I'm going to go… do…something… I'll leave you two alone." With that, he was gone in a flash, disappearing among the many black-suited men standing around.

"I think I see a table," stated Franziska, obviously having been looking around while Miles talked with Phoenix. "There aren't any empty ones, but I don't think I've ever seen those two before."

Miles looked where she was pointing, then nodded. They started heading toward the back of the high-ceilinged room, weaving between the many tables to reach one that sat in the back corner, out of the way of too many prying eyes. Two people already occupied it. There was a young man with dull gray hair that was styled a bit like Edgeworth's only with shorter bangs, and it didn't seem that he had put as much care into it. Across from him sat a young woman with flaming red hair that fell to the middle of her back, and her bangs also parted in the center of her forehead. They both appeared to be around Franziska's age, the man wearing—like most of the male guests—a black tuxedo and the woman wearing a black pants suit with a black leather, rhinestone-studded belt around her waste. They had been deep in conversation, but looked up as the other two approached their table.

"Pardon us," Miles spoke up, "but would you mind at all if we sat here?"

The two young adults didn't respond immediately, but it didn't take Miles long to notice that the man was staring at Franziska. Rather irritated, he cleared his throat, giving the stranger a reproachful look.

"No, we don't mind at all," came the woman's voice, deep and professional-sounding. She didn't seem disturbed at all by her companion's staring.

Apparently, Franziska hadn't noticed anything strange either, for she didn't hesitate in taking a seat beside the red-headed girl. Miles, however, took a bit more time in pulling out his chair and sitting across from her, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. He then cleared his throat again, trying to summon his manners. "Um, thank you," he said, feeling an introduction would be politest. "My name is-"

"Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth." It was the woman who had finished his sentence for him, her speech very mature for her age.

"And," came the young man's voice, very soft and even a bit raspy, "Prosecutor Franziska von Karma. Yes, we know exactly who you two are."

Miles looked from one to the other, taken aback by this. "S-so…" he began, trying to keep his usually calm and collected attitude. "…You watch court trials then?"

"Occasionally," the woman replied. "However, it's our assignment to know who you are."

Franziska stared at her. "Come again…"

With a swipe of her hand, the woman pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Agent Tilea," she said, indicating herself. "Head of Field Ops. for the Federal Borough of Investigation."

"Agent Taylor," added the young man. "On-site Tactical Coordinator for the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Both prosecutors stared in shock at the others. "You two are… FBI agents?" Franziska asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Miss von Karma," replied Agent Taylor. "I apologize for staring; I wasn't sure if I recognized you."

Miles kept looking back and forth between them. "I don't… mean to sound rude, but… aren't you two a bit young to be field agents?"

Tilea shook her head. "If I'm not mistaken, Miss von Karma began her career as a prosecutor at the age of thirteen."

"True." Miles looked across the table at Franziska, whose expression was unreadable. She looked half interested and half ready to get the hell away from these two. "Well, why exactly were FBI agents sent to a function like this?" This troubled him slightly, as if something here wasn't right.

"No reason," Tilea replied with a smile. "We just thought we'd come and enjoy ourselves." Something about the way she said it made it seem much less true.

"Are you two…together?" Franziska asked, trying to figure out if they seemed a fitting couple.

"No," replied the young man. "We're just good friends and we work closely with one another." He then paused. "You know, I wasn't aware that you two were a couple."

"Oh, it's a…recent thing," Miles replied, now turning his attention to the open wooden floor at the front of the room. The DJ had just arrived and there were a few couples slow dancing already.

"Don't even think about it, Miles Edgeworth," said Franziska, following his gaze.

"What?" He was grinning. "You never know until you try it. You might enjoy yourself."

She stared at him coldly. "And you're speaking from experience?"

Miles pushed back his chair and stood up. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't spend every Saturday night poring over case files."

She looked at his outstretched hand. "Well… I don't really know how to…"

Miles shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just follow my lead and you'll do just fine." With that, he pulled her from her chair and they left the table, making their way to the front of the room.

The other two watched them go, making sure they were well out of earshot before turning to each other. "Phoenix," the young man addressed Agent Tilea, "this could really complicate things. We didn't count on them being together."

The woman appeared to be deep in thought. "Well…" She turned her gaze to see that Miles and Franziska had made it to the dance floor. "There is a possibility that we could use this to our advantage, Ares. This means we might have a little more help in case things get ugly."

"I think I saw Mr. Wright here as well," Ares stated, leaning forward so that he could speak even softer than normal. "He might not be close with her, but he and Mr. Edgeworth are friends, and Mr. Wright is the helpful type."

She nodded her head. "Now, let's just hope we can apprehend him before the situation can get to that point."


	10. Chapter 10

Tourniquet

Chapter 10

Franziska laughed with joy as Miles spun her around the dance floor to a very up-tempo song by some old band neither of them was familiar with. She was very surprised at his skill; it was as if he'd been dancing for years, and with other people as well. She had never seen him as much of a party-goer, but this was proof.

She gasped as she was lifted into the air and flipped over Miles' shoulder, only to land safely on her feet with him facing her again. Applause rang out from around them as people had taken to watching their little show.

"Miles," Franziska whispered so that only he could hear. "People are staring." She was feeling a bit uncomfortable, but she was still smiling.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, looking down at her with his own grin. "It's a compliment."

Suddenly, it was dark save for a few lights over the dance floor. A collective hush swept the room, the dull roar replaced by scattered muttering. Miles looked up at the remaining lights, wondering if this had been planned. It sort of appeared that way, but the confused silence didn't end. He was waiting for some sort of music to start or someone to take the DJ microphone, but it didn't happen.

"W-what's going on?" he heard Franziska ask from his shoulder, her voice shaking nervously.

"Not sure…" Miles started to look around again for any signs of a clue. "Maybe it's-"

"EVERYBODY DOWN!!!"

The sudden eruption of noise began with a deafening bang. People began screaming and running as more bangs sounded from different areas of the room. Edgeworth felt his body hit the hardwood floor and lay still, the commotion around him suddenly drowned out by his own breath. His brain had gone into panic mode and he had tried to run, but something heavy had hit him, knocking him to the ground.

However, a voice started to penetrate this partial daze. "Edgeworth! Edgeworth!" He felt someone grab his shoulders and start to pull him upward. His senses returned to him like a wave at that exact moment, and he saw Phoenix Wright's face before him.

"W-Wright?" Miles was trying to register everything that was happening around him and couldn't remember why he was lying there in the first place.

"Are you okay?! I thought… I thought you were the one who was shot for second there!" Phoenix pulled his friend into a sitting position, his relief that the other man was not hurt barely showing through his own panic. "Come on! You have to get up! We have to get out of here!"

Miles looked around to see all the people running toward the exits, screams still filling the room. "F-Franziska," he whispered suddenly, and it then turned into a panicked shout. "Where's Franziska?!" He tried to stand, but nearly fell over again. Phoenix grabbed his arm to keep him up.

"I… I don't see her!" Phoenix shouted back over the noise. "Maybe she-"

Before he could finish his speculation into her disappearance, a terrified and desperate scream overpowered the rest.

"LET GO OF ME! YOU SON OF A BITCH; LET GO! MILES! MILES!"

Wrenching his arm from Phoenix's grasp, Miles made a beeline toward the screams. He knew it was her; there was no mistaking that German accent. "Edgeworth!" he heard from behind him as Phoenix gave chase, but he didn't pay the other man any attention.

The crowd of people suddenly disappeared before him as the last group of them made their frantic way toward the doors, and he saw her. She was struggling against two men, both dressed entirely in black and wearing half masks to disguise their faces. He saw her kick one in the shin with her heel and elbow him hard in the sternum while trying to pry her wrist from the grasp of the other man.

"Get off her!" Miles roared, charging forward to her aid. His hands found one man's throat and he dragged the attacker to the ground, initiating a fierce wrestling match. Miles pinned the man down and drove his fist multiple times into his face in pure rage, but he quickly received a sharp knee to the groin and fell sideways. He forced himself to recover immediately and grabbed hold of the other's shirt before he could rise again.

As he fought, he got a brief glimpse of what was going on around him. He saw Phoenix Wright grappling with the other man that had grabbed Franziska, and Detective Gumshoe was struggling against still another. 'How many are there?!' he thought as he tried to remove a strong hand from around his neck.

Without warning, Miles heard another shot pierce the air and then screaming. Wait… It was HIM that was screaming. Blinding pain seared through the young prosecutor's body before everything around him faded out. His world became black, and they all saw his form go limp.

"MILES!" Franziska tried to run to him, but a hand closed tightly around her arm and wrenched her backward until an arm pinned her against someone's much larger frame.

"You're comin' with me, sweetheart," she heard a menacing male voice say in her ear.

"No! Get off me!" she shrieked as she fought to get free. "Miles! Miles! Wake up! Miles!"

"Drop your guns! Now!"

Franziska whipped her head to the side to see the young Agent Tilea aiming a gun of her own at the group of people around her. "I SAID DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" She looked fierce, not at all the calm and professional young woman they had spoken with earlier that evening.

Franziska heard the man holding her give a dark chuckle. "I think it's you who needs ta' lower your weapon, Little Miss," he stated, and Franziska then heard a gun cock very close to her head. She gave a terrified gasp and froze completely. "You wouldn't want another death on your hands."

"Is that so, Sanders?" This time it was Agent Taylor who had spoken, standing on the opposite side of the group as his partner with his own gun in hand. "You forget that as FBI agents, we both have a license to kill if necessary."

A dark laugh sounded from the red-haired woman. "What Ares means is that we stand to lose nothing by splattering your brains all over the wall, and it would be so much easier than trying to take you into custody again. Wouldn't you agree?"

The man who Franziska now recognized with a horrible jolt to be Brad Sanders, the escaped serial murderer, seemed completely unfazed by this. "You sound like you think I have anything to lose."

There was a disturbance from nearby and Franziska saw the man who had been fighting Miles now trying to lift the unconscious man from the floor and use him as a shield, but a shot rang out before he got too far and he fell back, blood and other fluids now oozing from a wound in the side of his head.

An involuntary moan sounded in the German prosecutor's throat at this gruesome sight and she looked from one agent to the next to see who had fired the shot. Neither of their expressions had changed in the slightest, but a small stream of smoke was rising from Tilea's gun. "Anyone else want to try us?" she hissed, glaring at each person in turn.

Yet another bang, and this time it was Tilea who fell. "Phoenix!" came her partner's terrified voice as a full-blown gunfight broke out. Franziska screamed again as she was dragged from the scene, unable to fight her way out of Sanders' grasp. The man was around six-foot-five and had the physique of a body-builder; he could hardly tell she was fighting him.

Soon, the other three surviving criminals joined their leader in the dash for the get-away car. They reached a black van that sat on the side of the building with no license plate to be found. One jumped into the passenger seat and Brad and the other two climbed into the back, forcing Franziska in with them. The side door was slammed shut and the tires screeched as the vehicle swerved out of the auditorium parking lot and onto the highway.

Franziska trembled visibly as she sat stiffly in Sanders' lap, his gun resting on her knees with his hand upon it. She had completely given up her attempts to escape, for she realized how futile they really were. She was trapped, and she could only dread what these sick bastards had in store for her.

"So nice to see you again, Miss von Karma," she heard that sinister voice from behind her say, its owner's free hand traveling the length of the French braid in her hair and then up to grasp her shoulder. "Surely, you remember who I am, don't you?"

"What do you want?" she nearly whispered, feeling as if an iron clamp was constricting her windpipe as sobs of fear caused her body to jerk.

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that already." Slowly, he lifted the gun upward until he forced the muzzle into her mouth. "Revenge is going to be so sweet, Miss von Karma," he said, soaking in the pure horror evident in his victim's features. "So sweet, in fact, that I plan to savor it as long as I possibly can." He removed the gun from her mouth and leaned forward, placing his lips on her ear.

"I hope you're in the mood for some fun, sweetheart. Tonight, you and me are gonna' have a hell of time!"


	11. Chapter 11

Tourniquet

Chapter 11

"Mr. Edgeworth."

'…….'

"Mr. Edgeworth, wake up."

'W-what…? Who…?'

"I think he's awake now."

"Edgeworth!"

'Wh-where is…?'

"Edgeworth! Say something! Come on!"

"F-Franziska…"

"He's awake!"

Miles groaned miserably as he tried to open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy as did the rest of his body. Just speaking that one word had taken nearly all of his energy. But…where was she? He didn't hear her voice.

"I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he needs to get to a hospital. Ares, could you make the call?"

"Sure."

No, that wasn't her. The first had been a female voice, but it definitely wasn't Franziska. Finally, he forced his eyes open, thankful that the lighting overhead was dim. His vision was blurry and the unfocused faces above him seemed to swim in and out of view, making the nausea he felt worsen. He blinked a few times then looked again, now able to recognize those same faces.

Phoenix Wright, Dick Gumshoe, and Agent Tilea were all crouched around him. He still lay on the hard oak floor of the ballroom and he began to feel a terrible pain in his side, which slowly spread through his body as his nervous system finally returned to functioning properly. He hissed in response and gritted his teeth, trying not to cry out.

"Oh, thank God!" Wright exclaimed. "We were really scared there for a minute. How are you feeling, Edgeworth?"

"W-where's… Franziska?" he moaned, finding speaking increasingly more difficult. He was struggling to remember exactly what had been happening before his black-out, and so far the recollection was not a good one.

Wright and Gumshoe looked at each other, and the expressions upon their faces told Miles all he needed to know. However, Tilea confirmed it for him.

"She's been kidnapped, Mr. Edgeworth. I'm very sorry."

The other agent came up beside her. "The kidnapper and your shooter was Brad Sanders, the escaped serial killer."

Miles stared between them in horror. "I th-thought… he had been captured."

Ares shook his head. "He was caught, but he got away again. His goons incapacitated Phoenix and I when we were trying to bring him in."

Though both of them knew this didn't make sense, Miles and Gumshoe glanced over at Phoenix Wright, all three sharing a look of confusion.

"My name is Phoenix," came the girl's voice, the shadow of a smirk on her face. "To tell the truth, I found it odd that there was another person with that name."

Wright scratched his head in thought. "That is weird…"

"I-is anybody even bothering…to look for her?" Miles could care less about having two people in the same room named Phoenix; he wanted to know where Franziska was and if she was safe.

"We've sent out a search team," Tilea replied. "However, Ares and I didn't wake up until they had already left, so we don't have very many leads as of yet."

"Goddamn it…" Miles cursed miserably.

"Hey," Gumshoe looked over at the two agents, just having remembered something. "Didn't you two get shot?"

Ares nodded. "Bullet-proof vests," he responded simply before turning to see the chopper in the distance. "The medical team is here," he told Edgeworth. "They'll take you to get some professional help."

"N-no…" Miles made an attempt to sit up, but Wright pushed him back to the ground. "G-get off me!"

"Mr. Edgeworth," said Tilea firmly. "You've been seriously injured. You need medical assistance. Save your strength."

Miles shook his head violently, making himself dizzy. "No… I need to find her. I-"

"We will find her," Ares cut him off. "Keeping Miss von Karma alive and capturing Brad Sanders is our mission, and we will not rest until it is completed successfully."

"We give you our word." Tilea finished the statement and began to pull Miles off of the floor. With strength that none of them had expected of her, she lifted him and stood up, appearing to have no trouble whatsoever in carrying him toward the helicopter waiting outside.

Ares watched her leave and then turned to the other two men. "Are you sure you two are all right?" he asked, looking them over.

Phoenix fingered a bruise on the side of his face. "Yeah," he replied. "Nothing major, though he got me pretty good."

"You're a detective, aren't you?" he inquired, looking now at Gumshoe.

"Uh, sure, pal," the detective replied. "I'll definitely be helping in the search for Miss von Karma once I get back to the-"

"The police department no longer has any part in this," Ares told them. "They will only aid us if we request it. Tilea and I can authorize your assistance, but the rest of your department cannot be involved. The same goes for you, Mr. Wright."

"Huh?" Wright looked at him oddly. "I'm… not a detective. I'm a lawyer."

"I'm fully aware of that," Ares said as he pulled a PDA from one of his many pockets. "However, I know of your skills as an investigator. Besides, you know Miss von Karma and Mr. Edgeworth personally, correct?" He began typing something into the device as he waited for the response.

"Well… Sort of…" The attorney hesitated, trying to decide if he wanted to get involved in something like this or not. "I… suppose I could help out if you find any use for me."

"All right then." Ares looked up after finishing whatever he had been doing. "We'll take that chopper back to HQ; Tilea and I will brief you there."

"O-okay…" Wright was a little nervous, and could tell that Gumshoe was as well, but they both followed the young man outside and climbed aboard the helicopter, seeing that Edgeworth had been placed upon a gurney and strapped in for safety purposes. He gave them a strange look when he saw them, at a loss for why they were coming along.

"Uh…" Phoenix tried to explain. "Ares… I mean… Agent Taylor… wanted us to help find Franziska."

Miles sighed but didn't say anything. He felt useless and small; she needed him and he couldn't help her.

"Let go of me!" Franziska made another attempt to flee, but Sanders' grip on her wrist was too strong and she almost wrenched her arm from its socket. He pulled her toward him again and his free hand connected with the side of her face, leaving a white mark on her cheek that slowly started to turn dark red.

"I suggest you start cooperating, Little Lady," he growled threatening, his face just inches from hers. "I could easily make this so much worse for you." With that, he continued to drag her toward the house before them.

When he pulled her inside, she was met with a very unpleasant sight. The house was dark and dingy, as if it had been abandoned years ago. A thick layer of dust covered everything, matching the numerous cobwebs rather nicely. The scene was expertly enhanced with a powerful smell that reminded Franziska of something rotting.

"Not quite what you're used to, Miss von Karma," said that slimy voice from behind her. "But, it's only for one night after all. I think you can handle the downgrade for just that long, can't you?" He laughed with sick satisfaction as he saw a shiver run through her body. "Come and let me show you around."

She gasped as he moved forward again, roughly pulling her along. However, she was not taken for a complete tour of this Hell-hole; she was taken directly to the end of a long hallway and forced into an old, dusty bedroom. "I think this is really the most important room of the house right now," said Brad, closing the door behind them. "After all, this is where we'll be spending our time together for the remainder of tonight."

Before she even had a chance to protest, she was pushed hard up against the wall with Brad's tongue in her mouth. She tried to scream, to push him away, but it was all useless.

First, he reached up to remove her headband and proceeded to work the braid out of her hair. Then, he made to undo her necklace and untie the strap that was around her neck, which connected to the back of her dress. After finishing this, he pulled his face away from hers and placed a hand on her throat, keeping her pinned against the wall.

"What's wrong, Miss von Karma?" he smirked, a deranged look in his cold, black eyes. "You seemed so much tougher behind that little prosecutor's desk of yours when you got me convicted of serial murder. Now I see who you really are." He reached down with his other hand and grabbed her between the legs, making her entire body lurch.

"Just a scared little girl."

When he released his hold on her, she ducked and tried once more to run from him, desperate to escape what she knew was coming. As expected, he easily caught her and pulled her to him, beginning to unzip her dress. He removed the belt from around her waist, and when he reached the place where the zipper ended, he tore the fabric the rest of the way down, casting the garment aside and leaving her in nothing but her underclothes.

She made one last desperate rush for the door, but this time he stopped her with the side of his hand to her head, sending her sprawling on the filthy floor before him. Sobs of fear shook her small, fragile body as she lay there at his feet, helpless and waiting for the worst.

"So, are you ready to cooperate now, or do I have to make you incapable of moving?" The voice she had come to despise with all of her being boomed around her, reverberating off of the bare walls of the large bedroom. She didn't say a word, feeling that there was no point. It didn't matter anymore; he was going to have his way with her regardless.

"On your knees, whore!" He dealt her a sharp kick to the side of her ribs before reaching down and taking a handful of her light blue-gray hair. He wrenched her up from the floor and forced her into a kneeling position before him, using his other hand to undo his pants.

"It's too bad that other prosecutor got to you first, but I suppose I can deal with not being the one to break you in."


	12. Chapter 12

Tourniquet

(Warning: Cliff-hanger alert! Those who have read my other works know that I'm notorious for cliff-hangers, but I've been really nice in this story and haven't left very many. I'm about to start though! Anyway, enjoy!)

Chapter 12

_Great! Just great! It was two in the morning and he hadn't even realized it. He was expected to be up and ready in exactly four hours and he had no idea how he was going to manage it. _

_Seventeen-year-old Miles Edgeworth stood from the oak desk he had been sitting at for the past few hours and stretched with a rather loud groan, not even bothering to gather up the books and papers strewn over the wooden surface. He knew he'd probably be scolded for it later, but he'd much rather take the scolding than to be literally kicked out of his bed for not getting up on time._

_Rubbing his eyes to try and clear his vision, Miles began to slowly trudge from the library and up the stairs toward his bedroom. He really could have just fallen asleep while reading and not have even worried about practically dragging himself anywhere, but that would have probably gotten him hurt as well._

_He had made it about halfway down the hall when a noise from one of the rooms caught his attention. It sounded like… sobbing. 'Not again,' he thought with an internal sigh. He knew exactly what he'd find behind that closed door, and it broke his heart every single time._

_He placed his hand upon the doorknob and took in a deep breath before finally pushing the door open slowly. He glanced around the dimly-lit study for only a moment before spotting her, and his face drained of all color. "F-Franziska?"_

_The ten-year-old little girl lay curled up in a ball in the center of the empty room, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. All around her soaking the carpet was a puddle of blood, and Miles could only conclude that it was her blood she lay in. Never before had he seen her hurt this badly. He knew that this could very well be a deadly situation. 'Damn it, Manfred!' he thought angrily, gritting his teeth at the mental image of that old man's sinister smirk._

_The teen strode forward and crouched down at the child's side. "Franziska," he said softly, shaking her slightly. "Calm down, Sis; it's okay." In truth, he was terrified as well. He hadn't realized when standing in the doorframe just how much blood had pooled around her. However, he couldn't show his fear to her; she needed to try and calm down before he could help her._

"_N-no!" she cried out desperately. "I… I don't wanna' die! Please… s-somebody…" She was so out-of-it that she didn't even know he was there._

"_Oh my God…" Now Miles couldn't help but panic externally. He needed to stop the blood flow, but he couldn't find the wound. 'What did he do to her?' he questioned to himself while examining her carefully. _

"_M-Miles… H-help me…Miles…" _

_His heart leapt into his throat as he heard how weak her voice had suddenly become. She was fading fast and he still hadn't found the-_

_Miles gave a sharp gasp as he finally spotted what he had been looking for. On her right arm there was a gash running from the bottom of her palm to halfway between her wrist and elbow joint. Stunned, the young man sat back on his knees, his mouth hanging open and his face almost as pale as her cold skin. How could someone do this, especially to their ten-year-old daughter? He couldn't even fathom the amount of hate one would have to possess to commit such a heinous act. _

"_M… M-iles……"_

"_I'm here, Franziska," he said, leaning over her again. "I-I'll be… right back. Just… just hold on." Without wasting another second, the teen leapt up and ran faster than he ever thought he could to the nearest bathroom. From beneath the sink he retrieved a small towel and a box of bandages. There was no first-aid kit anywhere that he knew of, so this would have to do. He sprinted back down the hall and returned to her side._

_His heart still racing, he began bandaging the wound as best he could before wrapping the towel around her arm very tightly, applying a great amount of pressure to try and stop the bleeding. All the while he kept whispering to her, trying to keep her calm. "I'm here, Franziska. You're going…to be okay, I promise. Just keep your eyes open. Stay with me, Sis. It's all right… Just, please…"_

"_What the hell is all the noise about at this time of the night!?"_

_Miles' breath hitched in his throat at the sound of that harsh German accent from behind him. He slowly turned his head to look over his own shoulder to see Manfred von Karma towering over them both. He looked, as usually, angry and irritated at the sight of them. _

"_Y-you…" Miles' fear had suddenly turned to fury and he was finding it nearly impossible to contain it. "Y-you… How could you…? She's… she's just a…"_

_Manfred didn't allow him to continue, kicking him hard in the ribs and sending him to the floor. "What are you babbling about, boy?" he growled, raising his oaken cane threateningly. _

_Miles gritted his teeth to keep from yelping and sat up again, every muscle in his body tense. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he snarled, unable to control his rage any longer. "This is attempted murder! How could you?!" He was on his feet now, in a stance that suggested he was ready for a fight._

_However, just as he expected the old man to start screaming at him, laughter reached his ears. 'Huh?' he thought, confused and a little worried. _

"_You want to accuse me of this, boy?" He raised his cane and swung it full force at Miles, sending him flying against the wall. "THEN PROVE IT!"_

_Miles hit the wall and fell hard to the floor, crying out involuntarily as the pain surged through him. As he lay there trying to regain his strength, he saw Manfred walk over to his daughter, still laughing. "Pathetic waste of life," he hissed as he pulled the dying child up by her hair. Miles' make-shift tourniquet had not stayed in place and the wound was bleeding freely again. He threw her back down, her body now completely limp._

"_Franziska…" The teen couldn't believe what he was seeing. "N-no… You… YOU BASTARD!" With an enormous effort, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, ready to kill. His blood was boiling now, an unimaginable rage had exploded within him. He dodged a blow from von Karma's cane and leapt to his feet. He had killed her; the only person Miles cared for now had just been murdered by her own father. He would pay!_

_The young man launched himself at his mentor, trying to get his hands around the old man's neck. However, this time he couldn't avoid that deadly weapon; it cracked over his head and a Roman Candle exploded before his vision, ceasing all thought and movement._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Miles sat bolt upright, cold sweat dripping from his trembling body and breathing as if he had just sprinted a mile. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar room as he tried to remember where he was and what was happening. His thoughts were racing just as fast as his heart, and he couldn't seem to get them straight.

"Mr. Edgeworth?" A man in a long white coat stepped into his view, looking concerned. "Are you all right, sir?"

'Doctor…' Everything was starting to slow down a bit. 'Doctor… Hospital ward… M-medical attention…'

Taking a deep and shaky breath, he tried to calm himself down. Okay, it was all starting to come back. He had been shot and now he was in the medical wing of an FBI building. He was being taken care of there while Wright and Detective Gumshoe helped a couple of agents search for…

He groaned miserably and put his face into his hands. "Franziska…" He was worried sick about her, and that nightmare had made it all the more painful. It had started out as a memory, something he could clearly remember taking place. However, it had taken a turn for the worse, and now he was terrified for her safety. He realized just how badly losing her would hurt, but there was nothing he could do. He was stuck here, unable to run to her rescue, unable to save her as she had saved him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The sickening snap of the whip hitting her bare flesh resounded throughout the room, followed by another agonized scream. Franziska lay completely exposed at Brad's feet, battered, bleeding, and broken. Dark bruises and deep gashes covered her body, and more were to come, for he wasn't finished yet.

"How does it feel!?" Brad shouted, lashing the whip again and savoring her cries. "It doesn't seem you enjoy being on the receiving end, do you, bitch!?" The cold leather hit her again, leaving a deep red mark across the back of her neck to join the rest of her scars. He then gave her a swift kick, sending her against the wall and causing her to wretch, splattering more blood all over the floor.

"S-stop," she begged, choking on more blood that was still caught in her throat. "Please… stop…"

Her pleads fell on deaf ears as she was dragged away from the wall, and she had to brace herself for another round of humiliation and pain. She couldn't take much more of this; at this point, death seemed a welcome end to it all.

'Miles…' she thought suddenly, the image of the blood erupting from a gunshot wound onto his black tux fresh in her mind. He couldn't be dead; she wouldn't accept it. If only she could look into his eyes just one more time before this man took her life. She couldn't bare the thought of dying alone with no one left that cared. She wanted to feel that warm embrace, to lose herself in his gentle yet protective arms one last time. Just one last kiss: not one intended to hurt or humiliate her, but a true kiss, the type of kiss that he had taught her about those years ago and that he had shared with her numerous times since they had been together. An expression of love, caring, and compassion.

She was certain now that she'd never feel those things again as she saw the sadistic face of Brad Sanders looming just above her. The one person who had ever truly cared for her was gone, and she was about to join him. Still, something within her was compelling her to stay strong, to fight, even though her body had almost reached the point of uselessness. There had to be something, and her eyes darted frantically around that Godforsaken room, searching for anything at all that could help her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hey, you're awake." Phoenix Wright had entered the medical wing to find Miles sitting up in bed. The prosecutor's eyes looked a bit glazed over, a side-effect of the pain medicine he had been given, but other than that he seemed fully awake. He also looked very troubled.

"Any news?" he asked, his speech a bit slurred.

Wright shook his head sadly. "No," he answered. "I'm sorry," he added, seeing the look of worry on Edgeworth's face worsen.

"Damn it…" He looked now as if he was holding back tears as he lowered his head in frustration and sadness. "Why? Why can't they find her?"

Phoenix sighed and took a seat on the end of Edgeworth's bed. "Look, Tilea and Ares are working their hardest. It's just that with the time frame we're looking at-"

Phoenix had stopped speaking so suddenly upon seeing Miles jump a little as if surprised by something. Then, a low vibrating sound came to his attention. "What's that?" he asked, looking across at his friend, but he quickly noticed that Edgeworth had his cell phone in his hand. "Who is it?"

Miles was staring at the front display of the phone, his expression unreadable, though it didn't appear the news was very pleasant. Slowly, he flipped the front of it up and brought it to his ear.

As Phoenix watched, he saw Miles' complexion turn deathly pale, as if he had just seen a ghost.


	13. Chapter 13

Tourniquet

(Here I am again! Don't really have anything to say this time, just announcing my presence in case someone didn't know it was me or something... Yeah, I know, shut up!

Kay! Enjoy the chapter and send me your reviews!)

Chapter 13

"_Help me!"_

"_And what the hell do you think you're doing?! Get over here, you little whore!"_

His entire body was frozen as he heard the screaming that followed. Awful sounds reached his ear and he knew immediately what he was listening to. He couldn't speak; his vocal cords simply refused to work.

"Edgeworth?" Phoenix began waving his hand in front of Miles' face, trying to get his attention. "Edgeworth. Hello?"

"Franziska…"

"Huh?" Suddenly, something clicked in Wright's brain and he leapt up, running to the door of the medical wing. Soon, he came back with Ares at his heels. The youngest man darted around to the front of the bed and took the phone from its owner. Meanwhile, he spoke into his nearly invisible earpiece.

"I need a call traced," he said very quickly. "Mr. Edgeworth has just received a call down in the medical wing. I need it traced!"

There was a pause, and then Ares held the phone to his ear, listening to what was taking place on the other end. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his expression steady. He brought his own cell phone up and pushed a button that caused it to act as a communicator. "Phoenix… I-I think we're about to find her."

"_What've you got?"_

"A… call that is apparently from Sanders' phone. I've got Allen tracing it."

"_I'll be right down."_

The connection ended and Ares continued to listen to what was coming from Edgeworth's cell phone, making sure the line wasn't cut off. "Have you got it yet?" he asked into his earpiece. There was a pause, and then he said, "Well move it along! This guy's bound to figure out we're listening sooner or later."

"W-what's going on?" Wright kept looking from Miles to Ares, trying to get some sort of hint. His friend was trembling and sitting perfectly still. It didn't seem he was capable of moving. "Edgeworth? You okay?"

"Franziska… Oh my God… Franziska... God no…" He was now rocking back and forth with his arms wrapped around his own knees, the tears he had earlier been holding back threatening to overpower him now.

"E-Edgeworth!" Phoenix jumped up and went to his side, shaking him to try and bring him back. "Snap out of it, Edgeworth! Come on!"

"Got it!" Ares flipped the cell phone closed, grateful for being able to do so. "Mr. Wright, quickly! We have to leave now! There's not much time." A pistol sailed across the room and landed in Phoenix's left hand.

"Uh, I've never…"

"No time! Hurry!" Ares was headed for the door, unwilling to stand around and wait. "Just point and shoot!"

"Um… O-okay then… Edgeworth, are you-"

"Wait!"

Both Wright and Ares spun around to look over at Edgeworth, who was suddenly wide awake and fully alert. "Yes?" Ares inquired, a bit confused.

"I'm… I'm coming with you." Miles stood up, causing Phoenix to move toward him to push him back down.

"No," the defense attorney protested. "You'll get yourself killed. You need to stay here and-"

"Back off!" Miles snapped, pushing him away. "I… I need to help her! I can't just lie here and wait while Brad Sanders rapes her to death!"

Phoenix took a step back in shock. "W-what?!"

"You heard me! I'm coming as well!"

Ares watched him momentarily, mulling the situation over in his head. The expression on his face was difficult to read, but it looked…knowing. Finally, he turned to the doctor. "Get Mr. Edgeworth a shot of adrenaline. He's coming with us."

"B-but, sir," the doctor tried to reason with him.

"That's an order!"

"Y-yes, sir!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Choking coughs mingled with her sobs as Brad finally let up on her, getting to his feet while laughing. She couldn't move at all and felt that she would not be able to stay conscious for too much longer. The pain was tremendous; she couldn't handle it.

"Do you see now, Miss von Karma?" She cried out as the whip once again began lashing at her skin. "Do you see what happens when you mess with people like us? Look at where it's gotten you!"

Suddenly, a high-pitched ring pierced the air, taking them both by surprise. Brad growled in annoyance and went to answer his phone. "What?!" There was a pause during which he listened to the person on the other line. "You're sure? How the hell did they find us!? Goddamn it!" He threw the phone down and strode back over to where Franziska lay, grabbing her by the back of the neck and lifting her up to his level. "What the fuck did you do!?"

She didn't respond to him. Aside from the fact that it was nearly impossible, she had no desire to reveal what she had done. He had only taken his attention away from her for a moment, but it had been all the time she had needed to dial that number.

With an enraged roar, he flung her across the room, turning to head toward the door. "I'll be back to finish you after I take care of your little rescue party."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Land here."

"Are you sure we haven't been detected?"

"No." Tilea stood up and walked to the front of the chopper, which Ares was expertly piloting.

Wright leaned back in his seat and sighed, trying to calm his growing nerves. "Man… If she's not sure, then I might start panicking."

"No sweat, pal," said Gumshoe, looking completely relaxed. "The excitement is the best part of it all. Embrace the butterflies!"

Phoenix stared at him. "Um… Sure thing…" He then looked over at Edgeworth who was sitting up perfectly straight and remaining silent. He looked intense, determined, and impatient. "A-are you sure you can do this, Edgeworth?"

He received no response from the prosecutor, not even a glance. The man seemed to be in a complete trance, unable to hear anything that was going on around him. In his hand he held a pistol of his own which rested across his lap. Phoenix wondered if he was even aware that they were about to land.

When they touched down, both agents came to the back. "All right, listen up," said Tilea. "You too, Mr. Edgeworth."

"…"

"Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Huh?" He looked up to see everyone staring at him. "Oh… S-sorry…"

Tilea cleared her throat. "We're going to sneak in as best we can, though there is a chance we've been detected already. I want you all to keep your weapons at the ready and don't be afraid to use them if necessary."

Next, Ares stepped forward. "Since you've been given clearance to work on this mission, you too have the right to shoot to kill, but only if you must. If possible, aim for a shoulder or a leg to disable your attacker. Aim carefully, because we don't have time to teach you how to reload these guns quickly enough to survive during a fire fight."

"The vests you've put on under your shirts will protect you from receiving a major wound to the stomach, chest, or back. However, the material cannot absorb all of the shock from the blow. If you are shot, it will most likely take the wind out of you and maybe send you to the ground, and if you're unlucky enough to hit something, you could be knocked out." She looked between all three of them after finishing this speech. "Does everybody understand?"

Wright and Gumshoe both nodded; Edgeworth remained motionless and silent.

"Right then." Ares came forward, showing them his PDA, which presented a schematic of the surrounding area. He began speaking, using his finger to show them where to go and explaining the attack plan he had formulated. "Now of course," he added in at the end, "if they have anticipated our arrival, this will probably be thrown out the window, but stick to it if possible."

After making sure everyone was clear on their instructions, they exited the chopper and split up. Ares, Wright, Gumshoe, and another agent headed toward the front entrance to the building while Miles, Tilea, and two other agents headed toward the back entrance. The area was thick with foliage, and though it was mostly dead, it still provided them with decent cover in the darkness of night.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Yes?" He looked over at the young woman who was leading the operation, sure that she was about to tell him to stay back.

"I know that nothing I say is going to change your mind," Tilea began while peering through a pair of night-vision goggles to check that there was no one nearby. "However, I believe I need to make you aware of this."

"Look," Miles said, trying not to speak disrespectfully to this young woman who was doing all she could to help him. "I know that I could easily be killed in there. I've known it since I decided to come along, and I don't care. I have to help her; I can't just wait around while someone else does it for me."

"No." She removed the goggles and looked at him, her coal black eyes filled with purpose, no longer blank and emotionless like he was used to seeing them. For the first time, this girl looked human. "I understand that you have lost all regard for your own life in the desire to save the one that is most dear to you. Ares and I have been close friends for a few years now, and during that time, I have risked my own life on several different occasions to preserve his, and he has done the same for me."

He continued to watch her, now finding that he was listening more intently to this than he had Ares' tactical information. He just had this feeling that she was staring directly into his soul just by looking him in the eyes. He felt as if she was reading him, and knew exactly what thoughts and emotions were running through his mind. Even though she had only just become a legal adult, she seemed infinitely wise to him all of a sudden, and he was sure that what she was about to say was important.

"I may be young," she began, "but I have seen things that most could never imagine. I have done things that—given a different situation—would have placed me at the front of the line for execution. I speak now from experience, not as an agent, but as a human being with feelings, thoughts, and compassion."

The other two agents had moved ahead slightly, keeping watch while the other two talked. Miles found that he was on edge, anticipating what she was about to tell him, as if it was a story full of suspense.

"To kill a fellow human being, even with no consequences, is an act that will destroy you. To pull that trigger for the very first time, aiming to take someone's life will tear your soul in two. I can see the hate in your eyes; I know how badly you want to make him suffer for everything he has done to her, and I'm sure you have been planning all along to end him tonight. Just know that putting that gun to his head and letting that bullet fly will be the hardest thing you have ever had to do."

With that, she left his side, leaving him speechless. The hand that held his pistol was shaking, her words repeating over and over in his head.

"_Just know that putting that gun to his head and letting that bullet fly will be the hardest thing you have ever had to do."_


	14. Chapter 14

Tourniquet

(Here's my next one, and it's ACTIONY! Forgive me for any small mistakes I might make with this one, because I'm legally blind and trying to describe a gunfight... It sometimes doesn't work too well, but I did my best. Anyway, enjoy!)

Chapter 14

BANG! BANG!

Miles hit the ground upon hearing the two gunshots very close by. He saw Phoenix duck as well and then stand up again, looking around. With a lurch, Miles realized that the two agents that had been with them lay motionless in the bushes before them, an eerie black color spreading slowly along the leaves and grass.

"Goddamn it," he heard Tilea hiss. "Run!"

Before he even had time to think, she was pulling him along as another shot rang out. Miles felt the rush of air as it whizzed past his ear and he nearly dived for the ground again.

"Keep going!" Tilea shouted at him as she stopped and withdrew the AK47 from its holster on her back. A wave of sound erupted around him as a barrage of bullets exploded from her gun while she continued to move toward the house. Two shadowed figures suddenly fell from where they had stood and the rapid-fire ceased.

Tilea caught up with Edgeworth, her gun still in her hands. "I think they know we're here," she stated, a bit out of breath. He smiled a little at her intended obviousness and kept running, the pistol clutched firmly in his hand, held at the ready.

Unfortunately, he didn't get too far. An outstretched hand closed around his throat, stopping him and pulling him backward. He was slammed hard against a tree and pinned there, unable to breathe for the amount of pressure being placed upon his windpipe. Little stars were dancing in front of his eyes, and he was so dazed that fighting back was impossible. He was brought back for a split second when he heard his attacker cock the gun that was now pointing directly to the center of the prosecutor's forehead.

A moment later, they were both on the ground, the shot still ringing in the air. Miles realized very quickly that he had not been the one hit and looked up to see Ares standing quite a ways away, a long rifle in his hands. "Go ahead!" the kid shouted, looking once again through the scope for any further danger.

Miles gave him an awkward wave and shakily got to his feet. He was really starting to feel the effects of his blood loss and a little bit of pain had returned to his wounded side. Still, he couldn't stop to rest; there was no time.

Miles once more caught up with Tilea who was preparing to enter the old house. "Ready?" she asked, her AK47 still in-hand.

"Yeah," he replied, breathing very heavily.

"You'd better be." With that, she rushed forward and rammed her shoulder into the closed door, knocking it clean off its hinges. "FREEZE! FBI!"

The men waiting inside all raised their guns, fully prepared for a fight. Miles and Tilea were outnumbered three to one.

"Lower your weapons!" Tilea roared, her hand poised on the trigger.

One of the men began to laugh. "Is this what the FBI sends on its most dangerous missions? A wounded prosecuting attorney and a school girl?!" The rest joined in the laughter, but stopped when Tilea did as well.

"You should know better than to underestimate me," she said, an evil smirk upon her lips. "High schoolers are better shots than most police officers." Without giving them another chance to do anything, she opened fire.

Instinctively, Miles ducked down, new to being this close to a gun fight. He watched as Tilea's initial attack took out four of the six men with little effort. Then, she abandoned the empty gun and took to close-range tactics. "Go find Franziska!" she called to him as she swung one of them by his arm into a wall and dropkicked the other to the floor.

'Good idea,' he thought, moving quickly from the room. He heard gunshots coming from another area of the house and found himself moving in that direction.

Miles had to throw himself sideways to avoid a broken plank of steel that had been sent flying through the air from the battle being waged at the opposite end of the building. He remained hidden as he watched the others struggle with another large group of 'henchmen.' He couldn't help but wonder why so many people had come to Sanders' aid.

Phoenix Wright was fighting closest to him, using his gun to choke a man against a wall. Miles was surprised at how ferocious the normally gentle-natured lawyer had suddenly become. He really did have a fair amount of physical strength, and he was demonstrating his power quite well, especially considering the man he was fighting was much bigger. Wright was screaming something at the man he faced, but over the rest of the noise, Miles couldn't understand him.

On the other side of the room, Detective Gumshoe was struggling to escape a headlock, and failing miserably. However, he managed to get a decent grip on his pistol and fired it at his opponent. The bullet didn't hit the man, but the sound had frightened him and caused him to release the detective. Nearby lay a motionless body covered in blood, and Edgeworth realized with another jolt of fear that it was the third unknown agent that had accompanied them.

In the center of the room was Ares, taking on the remaining three at once. The young man was rather skinny for a kid his age, and the masked men were having quite a bit of trouble getting a hold of him. He was very fast and limber, able to maneuver his way out of almost any situation they forced him into. Once, Miles saw him duck under a crowbar that one man had swung at his head, slide between his attacker's legs, and jump up behind him, planting a bullet in the back of his neck.

A yelp sounded from nearby and Miles looked over to see Wright lying on his back on the floor, a thin trickle of blood running from his forehead. He looked up to see the man that had earlier been completely overpowered standing over him, trying to catch his breath. After a moment, he reached to the desk behind him and lifted what lay upon it into his hand. Miles immediately recognized the German gun. The sound of rapid fire filled the room as the man held the trigger on his Uzi, aiming to take Ares down, the most dangerous of the three remaining rescue team members.

The young man reacted quickly, diving for cover behind an old steel shelving unit. One of the surviving men he had been fighting was not so lucky, however; his bleeding corpse joined that of the other two that had been slain.

'I have to find Franziska,' Miles thought, terrified at how the tide of this battle had suddenly turned. He wanted to help them, but he had been giving his mission, and it was obvious she wasn't here. He tore his eyes from the scene and turned down a long hallway, hoping to find her alive and safe in one of these rooms.

He found nothing behind each door that he opened until he came to the very last one at the end of the hall. It was closed, and an attempt to turn the knob told him that it was also locked.

Now sure that this had to be it, his body seemed to give him a natural boost of adrenaline, and he began throwing his shoulder against the door, determined to gain entry.

The door was sturdy, but his fifth try proved adequate and it flew open, banging hard against the wall behind it. Due to the force at which he had thrown himself at the door, Miles already stood in the room when it opened, and his eyes darted among its contents; he ignored the pain in his shoulder, though he was sure he had bruised the bone.

When his gaze finally fell upon her, he nearly failed to stop himself from being sick. Cold terror swept through him, and for a moment he couldn't move from where he stood. He had expected she would be hurt, but this… this was unreal.

Franziska lay face-down against the far wall of the room. She was completely naked and her body was covered in blood, dark bruises, and fresh welts. She didn't even look up when he made his rather noisy entry; she just lay still, shaking and jerking with involuntary sobs.

He advanced toward her slowly at first, in total shock at the sight before him. However, as if a switch had been flipped, he was suddenly sprinting the length of the large room and was on his knees beside her, having released his grip on his pistol. "Oh my God… Franziska!" With unsteady breath and a pounding heart that banged against his ribs, he began scanning the room for something to cover her with. He saw that the beautiful outfit she had been wearing earlier was strewn across the floor, torn and useless now.

He kept searching; there had to be something. His attention was soon drawn to the thick black-out curtain draped over the large window on the wall beside them. Well, it wouldn't make the best blanket, but it was all he could find; it would have to do. Miles stood and yanked the huge piece of fabric down, pulling the metal bars from the top of it and casting them aside. He crouched again and—as carefully and gently as he could—wrapped up Franziska's broken body.

As he was doing this, the girl started to panic, unaware of what was going on. Her crying became more frightened and she began to thrash, making it difficult for Miles to get the sheet of fabric around her. Even when she was wrapped snuggly, she still attempted to escape him, and Miles didn't know what to do. It was obvious she didn't know who he was.

Feeling as if he too would start crying, he tried to shake her. "Franziska. Franziska! It's me, Miles. Franziska!"

"G-get away from me!" she choked out through her sobs. "Somebody help!!!"

Tears of frustration and fear had made their way onto Miles' cheeks, for he wasn't concerned with pride or dignity at this point. "Franziska! Please, calm down! It's me!"

"Let go of me!"

"Franziska, look at me!"

She suddenly stopped thrashing and lay still again, something having clicked in her brain. She was still on her stomach, but her head was turned to the side so that she was looking directly at him. He knelt there watching her, his breathing ragged and forced. He saw her blink a few times, as if trying to focus or clear her vision. She then stared at him for a long time without moving, no longer crying at all.

When Miles felt it was safe to move again, he leaned forward, placing a hand gingerly on her upper back. He felt her give a slightly jerk, but that was all. She continued to stare blankly up at him, and he had to take this as a sign of recognition, for it was obvious that she was incapable of doing much else.

"It's…okay now," He swallowed hard; his throat was painfully dry, making his speech cracked and raspy. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and his face was still wet with both sweat and tears, causing it to shine in the dim fluorescent lighting from overhead. "I-I'm here. You're going to…be all right. Just… stay calm."

Cautiously, he took her into his arms, allowing her head to rest against his left shoulder, the one that hadn't been used to break the door open. She was limp and still trembling, the pain and fear reflected in her pale, battered face. Small drops of blood were leaking from the corners of her mouth and a thin stream ran from an open wound just below her left eye. It was a ghastly sight, and Miles had never seen anything like this before. He felt paralyzed; this had to be some kind of nightmare.

Just then, a voice from behind him made every muscle in his body tense; he couldn't even look over his shoulder.

"So kind of you to finally join us, Mr. Edgeworth. Better late than never, I suppose."


	15. Chapter 15

Tourniquet

(And the moment you've all been waiting for... I think... I hope I did this well; I'm sure you'll let me know. Kay, enjoy!)

Chapter 15 

The sound of heavy boots came slowly closer to the two prosecutors as a sadistic laugh filled the air. Finally, Edgeworth was able to turn his head to look behind him, and immediately recognized the man Wright had been locked in combat with. However, he now realized just how big this man really was.

The man was well over six feet tall and was very well built. He had a tanned skin tone and greasy black hair that fell to his ears and extended a few inches lower in the back. His face was hardened, covered in scars and complete with a short beard on his chin and around his mouth. His eyes were cold and black, the final touch to his malicious appearance. Miles was sure this was Sanders, and he knew immediately that this was going to be one difficult fight.

Taking in a deep breath, Miles placed Franziska carefully back on the floor as he worked to regain his composure. He stood up and turned to face the killer, taking a few steps forward to show that he wasn't about to back down.

"Well, well, well," Brad laughed, stopping his advances. "Feeling brave, are we? Do you really think you should be out here with that little wound you have there?"

"I'm not afraid of you, Sanders," Miles stated, giving the other man a death glare. "Mark my words: you _will _pay for what you've done to her."

Brad's sadistic smirk widened. "What I've done to her? Funny. I was under the impression that this made two of us."

This taunt was all it took for Miles' anger to explode within him. He lunged at the larger man and knocked him to the ground, all the while attempting to throttle him. Brad retaliated by thrusting his elbow into Edgeworth's stomach, causing him to curl into a ball on the floor, blood shooting from his open mouth as he began coughing.

Wasting no time in continuing his assault, Brad stood and lifted Miles from where he lay all the way up over his head with ease, proceeding to power bomb him through a glass table in one corner of the room. Though the vest protected his torso from the shards of glass, the impact winded him and he received several cuts on his head and neck.

As he lay gasping for air, Brad knelt over him, a rather large shard held in his right hand. The killer leaned down closer to Miles and held the sharp piece of glass at his throat. "Don't worry," he said, a mocking smile on his face. "I won't kill you yet; I'd like to have a bit of fun first. What do you say?"

Unable to fight back any other way in this position, Miles' response was to spit a mouthful of blood into his attacker's eyes. His methods proved effective and he was able to bring a knee up and knock the larger man away. Without hesitating, Miles pushed himself up and grabbed hold of the nearest object he could lift, which was a loose piece of plywood that was leaning up against the wall beside him.

A loud crack filled the room as he broke the plank over Brad's head, knocking him the rest of the way to the floor. Miles immediately began the search for another foreign object he could use, having realized that hand-to-hand combat against this guy was impossible.

His eyes fell upon a fire extinguisher on the wall on the other side of the room and he took off toward it, punching through the fragile glass casing in front of it and turning around again. Brad had risen and was charging him; he had to act quickly. Praying the thing was working properly, he pulled the pin out and squeezed the handle, releasing a high-tension spray of foamy liquid that successfully took his opponent down once again. After he released the handle, the white foam began to settle to the floor, leaving a cloud in the middle of the room and concealing Brad.

Miles took this brief reprieve to try and catch his breath. His lungs were burning and his ribs hurt badly, even more so in the area where he had been shot. He was gasping for air through clenched teeth, the pain now becoming almost unbearable. His hands were trembling uncontrollably as they still clutched the heavy metal object tightly. Even though he had released all the pressure, he could still use it to defend himself.

He almost didn't duck in time to avoid the large lead pipe that suddenly came flying toward his head from the cloud of white foam. Brad rushed at him again, and Miles flung the fire extinguisher at him with all the force he could muster. It collided with the other man's chest and he doubled over in pain, at which point Miles ran at him and leapt in the air, delivering a powerful kick to the side of his head. They both fell this time, and Edgeworth found that getting up was not going to be easy for him. He was hoping now for some back-up, but something told him that the others were incapable of coming to his aid. He could hear no more gunshots or sounds of battle from anywhere else in the house, telling him that theirs was the only one taking place. He was sure that everyone else had to be either incapacitated, or worse…

Both men struggled to get back on their feet before the other could, and to his horror, Miles discovered that Brad would be the winner of this little race. This was bad news for the injured prosecutor, and it became even worse when Sanders retrieved the lead pipe he had thrown earlier. This time, he was unable to move quickly enough and was pelted in the back of the neck, laying him out again.

Next, Brad took to bashing him in the right shoulder, soon disabling his entire arm. The red liquid was now pouring from Edgeworth's mouth, and he couldn't escape this abuse no matter how hard he tried to. Now, he only had one working arm, making any sort of swift movement impossible while he was on the ground.

He heard the 'clink' of the pipe being discarded and almost breathed a sigh of relief before he felt Brad grasp both of his shoulders. "Now," Sanders panted, "let's see what we can do about that bullet wound of yours." He forced Miles onto his left side and held him still. With one hand, he brought his victim's limp right arm up past his head and placed his other hand on the man's hip. He then pushed his hands in separate directions, straining the skin on Edgeworth's right side.

The prosecutor suddenly felt an intense heat begin at the wounded area and spread throughout his entire upper body, followed by a searing pain. He gave an anguished scream as a massive amount of blood quickly seeped through the fibers of his vest and into the black, long-sleeve shirt he wore. The wound had been torn open and he was now bleeding freely again.

Satisfied with his work, Brad once more lifted Miles' broken body into the air and slammed him hard against a wall. The prosecutor fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, having lost all remaining capability to fight.

Though he was quite winded, Brad began laughing again, his victory attained. "Good show, boy!" he roared triumphantly. "It's just too bad you couldn't put up more of a fight."

With a groan of agony, Miles turned his gaze to the woman lying on the other side of the room, appearing to be completely unaware of what was going on around her. Bitter sadness, regret, and self-hatred were what he felt now. He had failed her; after all the promises he had made, after all the times he had put himself in harm's way to protect her, after she had given herself to him to save his life, he had failed her. He couldn't save her this time, nor could he save himself.

His feelings had obviously shown through, for Brad made a noise of mock sympathy. "Oh, that's too bad. Another love story ends in tragedy. It's a shame really; she was the only one who need have died, but I guess now you won't have to suffer a life all alone." With one more sick laugh, he turned away from Miles and began slowly heading back across the room. "However, since you're here anyway, you will have the privilege of watching me fuck her to death!"

Miles cringed at the grading sound of that man's laughter, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth in pure hate. He felt helpless and doomed, and he couldn't stop what was about to happen to her. There was nothing he could do now except lie in wait for the end. There was a moment of absolute dread that felt like an eternity, and then…

BANG! BANG!

An awful scream shattered all thoughts that had been running through his mind, a deafening shriek of pain that reverberated multiple times off the bare walls and ceiling. Miles kept his eyes tightly shut until the echoes died away, at which time he realized…

…The scream had belonged to a man.

Cautiously, Miles reopened his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. The silence was pressing as he began to scan the room, first looking to its entrance. The broken door still hung upon, but no one stood near it; no one had come in, which had to mean only one thing.

His gaze slowly shifted to the sight directly across the room from him, and his mouth dropped open at what he saw.

Brad lay motionless on the floor in a slightly curled position, very close to where Franziska still lay. Miles gasped when he saw her, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that her left hand rested on top of his discarded pistol. Her eyes were closed now, leading him to conclude that she had fallen unconscious.

Amazed, he looked over at Sanders once more to see the large amount of blood staining the carpet around him. He gagged suddenly when he noticed that the source of all this blood was the man's genital area. That was all it took; Miles retched violently, vomiting up more blood and his last meal.

A strange gargling noise rose in his throat as he tried to summon the last amount of his strength and push himself onto all fours. After an enormous amount of effort, he managed it and began to shakily crawl across the room--using only one arm--toward Franziska's unconscious form, leaving a red trail in his wake. He forced himself to ignore the pain; he had to reach her.

When he finally came to her side, he placed his left hand upon the gun, having to lean on it for suppose since his right arm was still limp. He looked to the side to see that Brad was still breathing, and the hatred rose in him again. This was it.

Miles pushed himself up onto his knees and held the pistol in his left hand. His entire body was shaking, and he gripped his weapon as tightly as he could to try and steady his hand. His aim was dead on, and his finger rested upon the trigger.

"…_putting that gun to his head and letting that bullet fly will be the hardest thing you have ever had to do."_

He suddenly realized just how heavy his breathing was and how white his knuckles had become. No, he had to do this; there was no reason for him not to. This man had hurt too many people and Edgeworth felt that it was his duty and right to pull the trigger. However, his hand seemed to be ignoring the order from his brain. 'Goddamn it!' he screamed inside his head, 'Fire it! Blow this bastard's brains out!'

Miles squeezed his eyes shut once more, his entire body tensing again. A strained growl of frustration was the last sound before the deafening 'BANG' split the air. A rumbling shock was sent up his arm and into his shoulder and neck.

Dead silence set in. His brain was numb and his body seemed to be frozen in ice. The scene was like a still frame for three long seconds, and then the gun dropped from his hand. His body followed suit, and everything faded to black.


	16. Chapter 16

Tourniquet

(Okay, this will be the next to last chapter everyone. Hope you've enjoyed my story, and as a heads up, I've started work on a sequel. Send me your reviews, please and thank you!)

Chapter 16

"Look, I don't know how long it will be. Really, it's a miracle either of them survived at all."

Phoenix Wright sighed and lowered his head. "All right… Well, can I go in anyway?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "I suppose."

Without another word, Wright passed him and walked into the dimly-lit medical room to the sound of a steadily beeping heart monitor and the powerful smell of sterilized…everything. He had a bandage across his forehead and a few large bruises, but he had been released from the hospital soon after regaining consciousness. However, it had now been a week, and they still hadn't opened their eyes.

Here lay Miles Edgeworth, motionless and silent, covered to his chin with a thick white blanket. A few different tubes ran from the machines near him and under this blanket, hooked to the young man's body with thick needles. He appeared to be resting peacefully, and Phoenix was glad to see it; all of them had been so anxious.

"Hey, Edgeworth." He was speaking very quietly, but out loud as if the man could hear him. He walked over to a chair near the bed and sat down, leaning forward to look at the sleeping prosecutor. "You really gave us a scare, you know. The doctors didn't think you guys would make it."

He fell silent for a moment, watching the other man for any signs of awareness. He received none, but decided to continue speaking. Maybe something he said would get through; it was worth a try. "Franziska's here too," he informed the silence. "They really thought she was done for, but she's going to be okay as well. You two really did a good job back there; Tilea and Ares figured out what happened for the most part. I'm sure they'd be interested in hearing your version of it."

He stopped speaking again, allowing the monotonous beeping to retake the task of driving back the quiet. As Phoenix continued to watch Miles, a slight grin crossed his face at the thought of what he would say if he woke up to find his visitor.

_"And what the hell are you doing here, Wright?"  
_  
Phoenix sighed again and stood up, deciding it was time to leave. "Well, I'll see ya' around, Edgeworth," he said before turning and walking slowly from the room, closing the door behind him.

Another brief rush of air displaced that which had settled in the room, this time from the slightly parted lips of its lone occupant. A soft sigh of relief, for his worst fears had just been dispelled.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Let go of me! Son of a bitch, get off!"

"Ms. von Karma, please!"

"Help! Goddamn it! Let me go!"

"Ms. von Karma! This is a hospital! Please, calm down!"

She continued to scream and fight, his reasoning with her falling on deaf ears. She had only just woken up and was desperately trying to get free of the medic's restraint. She had absolutely no idea where she was or how she had gotten there; all her brain registered was that there was a man she had never seen before trying to pin her on a bed.

Soon, a few more doctors rushed in and joined their colleague in the struggle. During this time, Phoenix Wright entered the room, having heard the racket. In shock, he dashed over to assist the doctors, hoping a familiar face would help console her, despite the fact that she hated him. However, they wouldn't let him near her, having formed a complete barrier around the bed.

After another few moments of confusion, they managed to hold her still, one of them even placing his hand over her mouth and holding her head still to keep her from hurting her neck by trashing.

"We have to put her out!" one of them shouted over her muffled screams and the frantic voices of the others. "She'll hurt herself!"

Another white-coated man broke free of the huddle and speedily retrieved a needle, quickly filling it with some type of liquid and then returning to the group. "Make sure her arm is still!" he ordered, leaning in to give her the injection.

"STOP!"

Silence suddenly swept the room; even Franziska ceased to scream, only continuing her panicked breathing. The doctors all stared at Phoenix, startled by his presence and sudden outburst. "M-Mr. Wright," one of them stammered, trying to regain his professional appearance. "We have to keep her from thrashing about. She'll injure herself further."

Wright didn't say anything immediately; he had scared himself as well. The reaction had been almost instinctive when he had seen what they were about to do. "N-no…" he began shakily, also attempting to compose himself. "Just wait. I don't think that's necessary."

"But, Mr. Wright-"

"Just let me try and talk to her," he pleaded. "Maybe I can get through to her. Just let me try."

The doctors exchanged doubtful looks, but they all agreed that, if Phoenix could indeed jog her memory, it would be healthier for her than the drugs. "Very well, Mr. Wright," the man with his hand over her mouth said. "You may try." He stepped back, allowing Phoenix to come forward.

Franziska still didn't scream, but her teeth were clenched angrily as she strained against the remaining team. She glared at Phoenix as he stepped up, afraid of everyone's reaction to this newcomer.

"Ms. von Karma," Wright said softly, leaning over her only a little so that she could see him clearly. "It's over; you're not in danger anymore."

She didn't seem to hear him or to understand.

"You remember me, don't you?" he asked, trying to smile. "You know who I am. Phoenix Wright, the foolish defense attorney."

There was a long moment of stillness, where nothing about the atmosphere of the room changed. However, to the amazement of the doctors, Franziska stopped pushing against them. She didn't look relaxed, but her expression was thoughtful as she stared up at the grinning lawyer.

"Edgeworth is here too," Wright continued, pleased with her reaction. "He's in another room. You're at the hospital."

She stared up at him a little longer before finally lowering her head and letting her muscles go limp. A simultaneous sigh of relief followed, only to be replaced by a tense concern as everyone realized that she had begun to sob.

"Hey, it's okay," Wright said, kneeling on the floor so that he was at her level. "It's all over now. Don't cry." He nearly leaned forward to hug her, but thought better of it. He didn't want her to freak out again.

"Sanders may be gone, but the fight isn't over yet."

Wright whipped around to see the two agents enter to room, Ares with his left arm in a sling and Phoenix with a thick bandage around her right forearm, which concealed a bullet wound. They both appeared rather tired, for the task of closing up their investigation and clearing away the mess that had been left would not set itself aside to give them time to make a recovery.

Wright got to his feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead with his jacket sleeve.

"Both of them still have a lot of suffering left," Ares replied. "Really, I'm surprised she recognized you so quickly."

A look of worry crossed the attorney's face. "W-what happened in there?" he asked. "You never told me any details."

The two agents looked at each other, and seemed to converse without speaking. They both looked at him again, and it was Ares who spoke. "Come with me," he instructed, gesturing toward the door. Wright followed him, leaving Tilea in the room.

The female agent approached the team purposefully, noting their apprehensive expressions. "Please allow me to speak with Ms. von Karma alone," she requested, something about her tone conveying that she would not take 'no' for an answer.

Hesitantly, the medics began to leave the room, knowing that protesting would get them nowhere. Meanwhile, Tilea took a seat in the chair beside Franziska's bed, the prosecutor watching her the entire time through tear-filled eyes.

"Good afternoon, Ms. von Karma," Tilea greeted her, leaning forward and speaking a bit more softly than was usual for her. "I am Agent Phoenix Tilea, head of Field Ops. for the FBI. My partner and I met you at the Prosecutor's dinner. Do you remember?"

Franziska appeared to be racking her brain, trying to dig out the matching image. Finally, the picture of the two agents sitting across from one another at the four-person table in the back of the ballroom floated before her mind's eyes, and she nodded slowly.

"Good," said Tilea, the shadow of a smile upon her lips. "You're doing well. I came to tell you what's going on. Can you understand me?"

Again, Franziska hesitated and then nodded.

"Everyone involved in your kidnapping has been killed, and that includes the man responsible for your injuries."

Her crying had nearly stopped as she listened, but fresh tears sprang into her eyes and she covered her face. "I-I… I'm…" She was having a great deal of trouble speaking now. "I… killed him… I'm a… a murderer…" She was shaking with sobs of pain and fear. The memory of her torment was burned into her mind and the prospect of further punishment for her own crime loomed menacingly before her.

Tilea shook her head. "No, you're not a murderer," she stated. "You didn't kill Brad Sanders. You shot him in self-defense, but you didn't kill him."

"Huh?" She lifted her head again, giving Tilea a confused gaze. "I-I didn't?"

Tilea shook her head. "No, you didn't."

"Th-then… Who did?"

Tilea breathed in and brushed her bangs away from her eyes with the hand of her uninjured arm. "Miles Edgeworth."

Franziska gasped. "M-Miles…" The fear returned, this time for his sake. She opened her mouth to ask about a thousand questions at once, but Tilea's soft laugh stopped her.

"There's no need to worry," the agent assured her. "Mr. Edgeworth is fine. He hasn't awakened yet, but he's alive and on the road to recovery. And don't worry about any charges against him," she added, knowing that this would be another concern of the prosecutor's. "He was under the direction of the FBI at the time. He had a temporary license to kill if necessary, and Sanders was our main target."

The German woman listened carefully to this explanation, clinging to every word as they cleared away her fear, leaving only the physical and emotional scars. After Tilea finished speaking, Franziska had one more question to ask. "May I… see him?"

Tilea shook her head apologetically. "Neither of you is well enough to leave your rooms. You'll see him again soon, however. I'll see to it personally." As she said this, she indicated herself by pointing to her heart, this action signaling her sincerity.

"Thank you," Franziska sobbed, unable to stop her crying. Even though she felt relief, it was not from the immense pain searing through her body and mind. She couldn't figure it out; everything was going to be all right; why then was she feeling this way?

"Recovery extends beyond the physical plane."

Franziska quickly looked back up at the agent, not having expected her to speak again so soon. "What?"

"What you have been put through doesn't just go away, Ms. von Karma," Phoenix stated with total seriousness. "Nor will Mr. Edgeworth be able to simply put this behind him after taking the life of another human being."

Once again, she seemed to have lost the look of a government agent and appeared as a woman; her black eyes shown with an infinite understanding of the human mind. This time, however, it was Franziska who witnessed the change.

"The feelings the two of you share are about to be put to the test, yet they are now more important than ever. You both have sacrificed something to save the life of the other, and while this will bring you closer, it can also drive you apart over time. Your love must run deeper than your sacrifice and deeper than your scars, else it will never survive the healing process. Instead of dwelling on your pain while you're here, I advise that you figure out why it is that you love him and hold fast to that truth, because the sea ahead is a rough one." With that, she stood, giving the German woman one last glance before her humanity left her and Phoenix was replaced by Agent Tilea, who began to move toward the door of the room.

"Good day to you, Ms. von Karma."


	17. Chapter 17

Tourniquet

('Triumphant music' I actually finished one!!! WOOT! Well, really hope everyone liked this story and I hate to part with it, but hopefully there will be a sequel coming shortly once I can finish gathering my thoughts.

**Disclaimer3**: Repeat disclaimers 1 and 2, AND I don't own the rights to the theme song of this story "Tourniquet" by Evanescence.

Anyway, enjoy!)

Chapter 17

Miles sighed and pushed the power button on the remote, turning off the small television that sat up high on the wall directly in front of his bed. This was a very nice hospital, so there were a decent number of channels to choose from; he just didn't feel like watching any of them. He dropped the remote on his bedside table and leaned his head back against the pillow, his bed currently raised so that he was halfway between sitting and lying down. This room was quite comfortable and convenient, but he had been stuck in it far too long and was getting restless.

He proceeded to stare at the ceiling, figuring that he should probably turn on the lights soon. It was beginning to get dark outside and the few objects in the room around him were beginning to lose their color, fading into dark and indistinct shapes against the plain white walls. From the angle at which he lay, he could not see out the window properly; all that was in his view was the corner of the building beside the hospital and a small sliver of the evening sky. He had no idea what the weather was like or what it had been lately; the awning overhead made it difficult to even tell if it was raining.

Miles soon began to drift into his thoughts, unable to forget the events that led to his being cooped up like this in the first place. They had assured him several times that Franziska was doing all right, but something in the back of his mind wouldn't allow him to believe it. He hadn't seen her yet and the mental images left after their struggle placed more doubt in his mind that she would recover so easily. He was afraid for her mental health; she hadn't been doing so well before the incident after all.

His left hand closed tightly around the bar on that side of his bed, the hand that had pulled the trigger. A sick feeling swooped through his stomach, causing him to close his eyes and take in a sharp breath of air. Night after night, he relived that moment, and his mind often tweaked the situation just to mess with him. Many times, it was not Brad Sanders who lay before him, but his own father, bringing back the forbidden memories he had been forced to recount just over a year ago. It was maddening, and since there was no one around to talk to, he was left to dwell constantly within these nightmares without any distraction.

Just then, a disturbance outside the door broke the heavy silence. He could hear voices, but they were muffled and intelligible through the nearly soundproof door. Then, he was aware that someone had grabbed the handle and had pressed it down. They didn't enter immediately, but waited to finish their conversation. He wasn't kept waiting for too much longer, however.

Bright light from the hallway flooded into his room, shattering the near complete darkness. The light was blocked in part by a few silhouettes, but he couldn't tell who had come in until he heard the person in front speak.

"We will now be entering the bat cave," came the low, sarcastic female voice, belonging to Agent Tilea. "Let's have some damn light in here."

Miles reached over to the controls beside his bed to oblige, but she reached the lamp sitting on a long table near the door, switching it on and filling the room with a soft glow. "That's better," she said, turning back to motion the others into the room.

First came Agent Taylor, no longer wearing his sling but still looking very tired. And, to Edgeworth's amazement, Franziska was walking beside him, leaning on his shoulder to stay upright. When he looked at her, she did her best to smile back, but it looked more like a grimace and most likely was one.

"Well," Tilea said, leaning against the wall beside Miles with her arms folded across her chest, "it took us a bit of convincing the doctors, but we got her over here. To be honest, we weren't sure if this was such a great idea at first, but she insisted."

Ares led Franziska to the chair beside Miles and helped her sit down slowly, turning the chair so that she faced him.

"Hey," Miles greeted her softly, doing his best to move closer to her, for she was to his right and leaning in that direction was quite painful for him. She reached forward and took hold of his outstretched hand with both of hers, giving no verbal response.

"Okay then," Ares said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "We'll be up at the nurses' station if you need anything. We're staying here until you're ready to leave, Miss von Karma."

"Thank you so much," Miles said with utmost sincerity, Franziska nodding in agreement toward the two agents.

Tilea smiled, startling them both. It was an uncharacteristic look to them. "No trouble," she said, stepping away from the wall. "We're off duty until we've fully recovered, so it's not like we're in any hurry." Without another word, they both exited the room, closing the door behind them and leaving the two prosecutors alone together.

At first, all they could do was stare at each other, neither knowing where to begin. There was so much to say, and not enough words to say it. Each was overjoyed to see the other, but at the same time, apprehensive. Once again, there were mixed feelings, and the silence hung still as they tried to sort these emotions out.

"Miles…" Franziska was the first to speak, still uncertain as to what she wanted to say. "I… You… You didn't have to…"

"Shh," he hushed her gently, reaching up to clear her face of a few strands of hair. He knew what she was about to tell him, and it wasn't true. "Of course I did. Somebody's got to look out for you, although I guess I was a little late on the draw."

"I was… so scared," she said, her head lowered. "I thought… I thought you had been killed… I was sure that it was all over." Tears were drifting down her cheeks now, and it was obvious that she hadn't been doing much besides crying lately judging by how red her eyes were.

As he looked on, mulling over the correct response to this, he felt great pity for her. He couldn't even imagine how terrifying that experience must've been, and there was even a twinge of guilt for not being able to stop it from happening. He made to reach for her again, but was hesitant, unsure of how welcome his touch would be to her. He vividly remembered her reaction to him just a few days prior to her kidnapping, and now the lasting psychological trauma would probably make her even more afraid.

Franziska gave a particularly loud sob, misinterpreting his hesitation. "I know," she choked. "I don't expect you to ever want to touch me again. I feel so… so dirty…" She covered her face in pure shame, turning her upper body so that she no longer faced him.

Miles gaped at her, taken completely by surprise. "Franziska…" He barely knew what to say or do. He had expected her to be very upset, but to feel this way about herself…

Making up his mind, he started readjusting himself so that he could lean to his right. Soon, he was lying on his side, using every ounce of endurance he had left to ignore the sharp, burning pain that shot up his side and into his shoulder and arm. Supporting himself on his right elbow, he reached out to her with his left hand, placing it beneath her chin and turning her face toward him. "Don't ever so much as think anything like that again." His voice was firm, yet full of an intense kindness.

"There is nothing or no one that could ever change the way I feel about you, especially not that sadistic, good-for-nothing, pathetic criminal." The words had just come to him; no thought or consideration had been required.

When she looked at him, she saw nothing but a vicious passion in his dark gray eyes and upon his face. It was almost frightening, but at the same time it filled her with a great sense of joyous relief. She blinked at him a few times, attempting to clear the fog from her vision only to let escape more teardrops. His hand slid from her chin to her cheek and she leaned her head against it, closing her eyes. She only had a moment to notice his warm breath on her wet face before his lips met hers in a soft, gentle kiss. "Come here," she heard him whisper as he moved back again, this time taking a light hold of her arm.

Gripping the metal bar near the head of his bed, Franziska carefully pulled herself from the chair and toward Miles, who still had a hold of her other arm and was nearly lying on his back once more. As soon as she stood up, a sharp pain seared her middle, causing her to hiss and squeeze her eyes shut against it. She almost fell back, but Miles' grip on her arm tightened quickly and kept her upright.

"Come on," he encouraged her. "You've almost got it." He held her up firmly as she placed the hand that had been gripping the bar onto the bed, lifting her right knee carefully to climb up. It hurt so badly that she stopped again, ready to just drop to the floor. Hearing her whimpers, Miles placed his right hand on her side, now supporting her entire upper body. Finally, with a little assistance, he was able to pull her up and she came to rest on him, lying on her stomach with her head on his chest.

"There we go," he said, folding his arms around her shoulders as they both took a minute to catch their breath. What should have been such an easy task had caused them both a great deal of pain and had cost a large amount of energy. Nonetheless, a new element of comfort was added to the already cozy room, the dim lamplight creating an almost romantic atmosphere.

After catching her breath, Franziska moved again, taking hold of both of his shoulders and pulling herself up so that her head now rested on his shoulder and his arms were now wrapped around her middle. They both relaxed finally, Miles placing his chin on the top of her head. "What do you think the doctors will say?" Franziska asked, already knowing what his answer would be.

"Honestly, I don't really care what they think," he replied. "You were obviously feeling well enough to walk all the way over here." He moved one hand up to the back of her neck, proceeding to toy with her hair. "You're doing better than I am at this point."

Franziska looked up at him inquiringly. "Really? How do you figure?"

He gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "You can stand up. They've got me on so many Goddamn drugs that I almost have to check to make sure I still have all my limbs." The joke was a morbid one, but they both smiled.

"You don't look like you're on a lot of medication," Franziska observed, looking closely at what she could see of his face in the dim light. He appeared to be fully alert: his eyes weren't glazed over and his speech was as articulate as it had always been.

"Is that so?" He tightened his embrace and gently kissed her forehead. "Because I sure feel like I'm on Cloud Nine."

She laughed a little and raised her head so that their lips met once more, and this time she was kissing him back. Unfortunately, she couldn't hold herself up for long and had to come to rest once more, a sigh of content escaping her as she allowed her entire body to relax. At last, they found a retreat, a brief reprieve. His immense guilt, her pressing anxiety, their constant pain: it had all melted away in the warmth of their embrace, leaving nothing but the benign.

"_Franziska."_

"Yes, Miles?" Something about the way he had said her name intrigued her. It had sounded like the German pronunciation, or had she just been hearing things? There was another moment of silence before his voice reached her ears again: soft, clear, and confident.

"_Ich liebe dich."_

Silence…

Slowly, Franziska lifted her head again, a look of pure shock on her face. Those words… Even though they had been spoken in her native tongue, they sounded so…foreign. Individually, she knew what each one meant, had used it, could define it, but spoken together in such an order… Never in her life had she heard them directed at her, and she couldn't seem to register their meaning.

"W-what?"

Slowly, he slid his hands up her back and kept going until they were on either side of her face. He pushed her hair back so that there was nothing obstructing her vision. All she could see was his visage, bathed in dim florescence.

"_Ich liebe dich."_

Suddenly, as if upon the flip of a switch, she understood.

_Ich liebe dich_: I love you. She gazed at him openmouthed, unable to believe that someone thought her worthy of such a phrase. No, not a phrase; a sentence, a complete thought, it stood alone with its own meaning. Suddenly, everything was clear; a difference, there was a distinct and obvious difference between what Miles had done and what Sanders had done. She understood everything now, even those strange emotions she had been feeling that—until now—she had no way of describing.

It was love…

"I… I love you, Miles."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_I'm here, Franziska. You're going…to be okay, I promise. Just keep your eyes open. Stay with me, Sis. It's all right… Just, please…"_

He couldn't stop the tears from falling. They slid down his cheeks and then left him, landing softly on the towel, which was slowly beginning to turn from white to pink. Seeing that the blood flow wasn't stopping, Miles' crying only worsened, his body now shaking with sobs as he lay down next to her, cradling her fragile body in his arms.

"_Franziska! Don't leave me..."_

_And then it happened: she looked up to peer into his tear-stained face. She blinked very slowly, fighting to stay conscious. "M… Miles…" This time, she wasn't calling for him; she knew he was there with her, holding her life safely in his strong arms. _

_She glanced down at her wrist, seeing his hand wrapped tightly around the towel that hid the gash. Her entire arm was numb, and that cold numbness was spreading throughout her body. However, as she watched, her blood ceased to dye the white threads. Had it really stopped? _

_The young Franziska looked once again up into Miles' eyes, the eyes of her savior. She saw there a cautious relief, and something more. She didn't know what it was; she had never seen it before, but something about it filled her with a revitalizing warmth, replacing the freezing numbness of oncoming death. Suddenly, she knew she would be okay; she knew she could survive this terrible night._

_Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Franziska huddled up against Miles, who practically wrapped himself around her. His warm body shielded her from the cold air around them, and they lay still, awaiting the darkness of sleep._

_A chill wind blew in from the open window above the study's desk, sending an entire stack of papers askew, fluttering like butterflies all around the two children embracing each other on the floor in the center of the room. The breeze reached all the way to the opposite side, coaxing the door shut of its own accord. _

_And so they lay, lost in an eternal moment of complete serenity. Miles clutched the young girl tightly so that her spirit could not escape her body in their sleep. _

_He held her like a lifeline; his only friend in the world…_

…_His Tourniquet._

**I tried to kill my pain  
But only brought more  
I lay dying  
And I'm pouring crimson regret  
And betrayal**

**I'm dying  
Praying  
Bleeding  
And screaming  
Am I too lost to be saved?  
Am I too lost?**

**My God  
My tourniquet  
Return to me, salvation**

**Do you remember me?  
Lost for so long  
Will you be on the other side?  
Or will you forget me?**

**I'm dying  
Praying  
Bleeding  
And screaming  
Am I too lost to be saved?  
Am I too lost?**

**My God  
My tourniquet  
Return to me, salvation**

**I want to die!**

**My God  
My tourniquet  
Return to me, salvation**

**My wounds cry for the grave  
My soul cries for deliverance  
Will I be denied Christ?  
Tourniquet  
My suicide**

(And that's it folks. Yes, I know the song doesn't fit with this chapter, but it does with the beginning very nicely, and that's the premice for this whole story. So, if you liked this one, keep an eye out for the sequel and please send me your last reviews. Goodbye everyone!)

_**Phoenix Tilea out...**_


End file.
